


Medicine

by witheredshores



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 3 years after the war, Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Co-workers, Depressed Harry Potter, Depression, Harry is a mess, Hermione Granger is a Weasley now, Life Debt, M/M, Merula is sassy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Slow Build, Slow Burn, antidepressants, but he is SO loved, harry is in a bad place, he has friends, i live for the angst, not really - Freeform, she can make Snape blush, she's grown up, so slow it hurts, they save the day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witheredshores/pseuds/witheredshores
Summary: Severus Snape wanted nothing but to live his life after the war in the bliss of tranquility. He didn't want the damn know-it-all demanding him to save Potter again, not after everything he did for the brat.He also didn't want the boy to disintegrate himself any longer.He wanted to see Potter fine, laughing and being an insufferable thorn on his side because that's what Severus was used to.He'd never help Potter if it wasn't for a stupid life debt. He-would-never.





	1. The life debt

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily inspired by a song called Medicine from Daughter. It's a beautiful song and I'll leave a link at the end for you to check it out.
> 
> ● A quick note about Merula Snyde:  
> She's a Slytherin character from the game Hogwarts mystery. She's the MOST obnoxious character at that game but she gets a little better as the game advances (VERY little). But I wanted a Slytherin character who'd be good at potions canonically speaking and since she'd be like 27 years-old at 2000 I wrote her as co-worker and lab partner of Snape. But she's all grown up in my story and really funny, but still Slytherin (yaaassss)

When he picked the Daily Prophet and deposited one Knut in the barn owl’s pouch he considered taking it back and shove the journal and the loathsome owl out of his home with a hex coursing behind its tail. The last thing he wanted to see on this day was Potter’s face smiling to the camera as flashes went by. It was obvious people would consider him the big hero of the wizarding world, no matter his or everyone else’s sacrifices. Moreover, surely the boy would make the front page covered in compliments and idolatry, forget all the times the same journal accused and damned him. The headlines talked about the end of the second war anniversary, it was only then that Severus remembered yesterday completed three years, it would obviously appear in today's news.

Three years free of spying, free of trying to manoeuvre that minefield without getting himself killed. He wouldn’t miss it, wouldn’t miss Hogwarts, nor the Dark Lord sadistic ways of showing power. Severus was… Contented with the way things were right now. Between the free time to brew a few of the more complex potions for St. Mungus, and Hogwarts, a service he’s very well paid for and also brewing potions on a daily basis to his own apothecary at Diagon Alley he would say happiness was found. A nice facade at his store brought many clients, which of course, had no idea it was an ex-death eater who brewed and sold those potions for a higher than average price (a perfect quality brewing guaranteeing that). Everything was more than enough to suffice his monthly expenses and, obviously, a welcoming face attending the clients got him free of any social interaction.

Very rarely he went out in the light of the day. When it happened, it was mostly only to buy certain ingredients impossible to obtain through the mail. Severus couldn’t care less about the nasty looks he received while walking the streets, most of the time he agreed with the post-war-clean-fingered public opinion. He should have died, Potter was insane for having him acquitted of the wizengamot trials and blasted be Granger for saving him that night when he took Nagini’s bite. He never expected her to have the whole St. Mungus in that bottomless purse of hers, or maybe he did expect but wouldn’t expect the girl to waste it over him. Dittany, Wiggenweld potion, blood replenishes, the antivenin for Nagini’s poison, which she acquired with Healer Smethwyck Merlin knows how, and, ‘for reassurance that you’ll be fine sir,’ she still shoved a bezoar down his throat. He had his life finally free of the whole mess of war but now owing to the damn know-it-all a life debt.

He pursed his lips looking again to the smiling face of Harry Potter, Granger and Ronald by his side, holding hands. The golden trio, a perfect couple and a third wheel, Severus snickered watching Potter blink too many times due to the flashes. He could almost see through the black and white of the paper his absurdly green eyes. After the war, everyone expected that eventually, one morning, an owl would bring a whole edition of the Prophet talking about Potter’s marriage with the Weasley girl. He thought the boy would be eager to build a family of his own after everything. Then, Severus recalled, the last month edition who contained a whole page stating that Potter was still the most desired bachelor of wizarding Britain. While sipping his tea, he concluded that he definitely didn’t care and flipped through the pages deciding to play the dumb crosswords.

It was in _the serpent most common in North America which it’s natural habitat is at the water_ when he heard a knock at the back door. Frowning while casting a tempus realizing he had at least half an hour before Snyde showed up, Severus went downstairs to answer it. Probably it was some potions ingredient order, they came more often than not and they would always happily leave after a tip and a quick Obliviate who made them forget they just made a delivery to Severus Snape of all people.

He didn’t pull any faces while opening the door to no one less than Hermione Granger, Snape groaned internally. Seeing them in the newspaper at least once every three months was more than enough. Since he would never exchange pleasantries with the girl, he stepped aside and allowed her in. It was the most warming welcome that would _ever_ be offered by him. He hated life debts and he was itching to kick her out.

 ‘I’m very curious about how you found me Miss Granger’ He said after getting tired of her snooping the potions shelves. She stopped and looked at him. Being much more accustomed to the hate, spiting, and curses behind his back, the soft and kind eyes she threw didn’t fit with what he was used to, it felt wrong and misplaced.

‘Weasley’ she said showing the gold wedding ring on her finger. _Of course_ , even as a part of the golden trio Severus should expect that her and Weasley lives would be much less interesting to the media than Potter’s. Saying nothing, he just closed the door behind his back, hoping she would apparate far away just from the daggers he was throwing with his eyes. She looked at the shelves again and sighed pulling the stool behind the counter and taking a seat. _Yes, do make yourself at home, please. Do you want my lab too? Maybe my lifetime profit? Since I owe you my forsaken life you can take everything can’t you?_ He pressed his teeth hard. In all honesty, his desire to curse the girl out was very consuming but his sense of duty was too ingrained in him to actually do anything. And so she sat and he allowed her.

‘I need a favour sir’ Severus rolled his eyes, trust a Gryffindor to be too honourable to charge a life debt asking for a favour instead of actually charging it. He crossed his arms waiting for the girl to elaborate further, it’s not like he had any say in the matter. ‘It’s Harry’

He wanted to scream and lock himself for a whole week at his potions lab. Maybe go back in time and ask Nagini to bite him earlier so he could die before the blasted trio arrived to save the day. _No,_ he spent too many bloody years living in the function of Potter. He wouldn’t go back to do everything again just because of Granger… Weasley, whatever. She probably saw through his cold forefront.

‘I would never have asked it of you if I wasn’t really desperate. Both, Ron and me… He won’t talk to anyone, says he doesn’t want to risk it leaking to the Prophet, but I don’t think it’s only because of that. He’s been closed off even from us. Two months ago we threw a party at the Burrow to celebrate Ron’s birthday and he didn’t even show up’ Snape wanted to laugh, it was quite amusing to imagine the precious everyone else’s golden boy skipping his side quick Weasley party as if it was nothing. Because it was _oh, so painful_ having people who cherished his presence and though it to be important in family gatherings.

‘I still fail to care Weasley’ Being able to put as much disgust at the Weasley name as the Granger one she had the audacity to smile at him.

‘I don’t think you don’t care, sir. You care about Harry, you really do. He told us you know… About, everything. Your friendship with his mom and how Dumbledore plotted his own death’ He could curse her even while owing a life debt, his hands itched, pity his morals were too high. ‘He’s been taking muggle medicine since after the war... He entered the Auror program with Ron but left it barely after a year and lately he’s been getting worse and worse'

An edition of the prophet of a few years ago flared in his mind, it was questioning what Potter would do after giving up the Auror training, they still hadn’t answered what the brat was dabbing into now.

‘In fact. I-do-not-care. But since I owe you a life debt, feel free to charge it or leave me be Weasley.’ Her expression hardened and she moved in the stool trying to make herself more comfortable.

‘Very well, since you’re the only one I believe he’ll talk to right now or that can help him without getting this leaked. I Hermione Jean Weasley charge you Severus Snape of the life debt you owe me. You shall help Harry James Potter to recover of his addiction and sadness and if you hurt him in any possible way, mentally, physically and emotionally this contract is cancelled and you’ll be back to owe me’ Snape kept listening with his arms crossed, he wanted to smile but didn’t.

Trust a Slytherin to bend the _oh, so high_ Gryffindor honour in the name of a greater good. He would never risk helping the girl without she explicitly states she would free him of this stupid debt, and Severus knew very well that she would free him in Potter’s behalf. They always did everything for that boy, Snape thought to be quite unbelievable how daft the boy was for not recognizing the valuable friends he had.

‘Very well, now that you got what you wanted. Enlighten me, Weasley, what exactly you expect me to do for the golden boy’ He uncrossed his arms while placing emphasis at the _exactly,_ maybe he could find a loophole and get out of this mess more easily. He would never state that he was the one who got what he wanted, a debt-free life, not before he was certain it was fulfilled and paid for. Severus started walking through his shelves looking for what he wanted while waiting for the girl to formulate her words.

‘As I said, he is sad, he’s been closing off and has been taking muggle medicine, antidepressants I think, but no matter how much I tell him to stop he won’t. Sir, these medicines are dangerous. They can be addictive and have a series of side effects. He’s living in a muggle apartment in London and lately started refusing to use magic, I and Ron are very busy but we go to see him every time we can and there are days he barely gets up’ Clearly it was symptoms of depression. Severus wondered how the so loved Potter managed to get himself trapped in such a state. He handled some vials of Draught of peace to the girl and she only stared at it.

‘Tell him to take these and lower the dosages of the muggle medicine in half until he gets used to taking lower dosages’ She pursed her lips.

‘You won’t get off of this, not this easily. If I wanted a fucking draught of peace I’d have come over and bought it. No, you go there, you give it to him and explain what he should do, and you fucking talk to him. He got you free, he defended you, he worried about your wellbeing, he was the one who… Never mind.’ She stopped her annoying rambling taking a deep breath. ‘My point is that he keeps saying we don’t understand, that I and Ron will never understand. I have a hunch that he thinks you will, that he might talk to you.’ Potter _was the one who what?_ That picked his curiosity. He was itching to ask but he would never give any type of advantage to the girl, Severus put the vials of the draughts in the counter while leaning over it and looking at her.

‘And here I am thinking you are at least on the average side of intelligence but still, you have the audacity to think that Potter would ever want to talk to me of all people. Don’t make such jokes Weasley. It makes you look delusional like that Lovegood friend of yours’ Standing on his feet again she looked more exasperated by the second. Severus knew he could be hard to deal with if he wasn’t in the mood, and he rarely was anyway, and seeing her suffer to refute him didn’t even make a scratch at his pity department.

‘He will talk and I’m not making jokes, much less asking you to do it. I’m demanding’ She got up of the stool pulling a piece of paper out of her purse. ‘This is his address, be there today. Ron and I will be busy with my work and his Auror training and I’m worried about leaving him alone for too long. Keep him company, please’. The last word sounded much like begging but she left through the same door she came without looking back.

Snape stood there looking at the piece of paper as if it would bite him, ‘well... That went hugely unforeseen' he muttered under his breath. Eventually, Severus sighed picking up the piece of paper just when an apparition pop of Snyde's arrival sounded right behind him. Giving him a grumpy good morning and stating they should brew more pepperup potions by a request of St. Mungus. He just shoved Potter’s address deep inside his pocket stating that she could have the lab free to herself this afternoon to do her experimentations. His statement cracked a smile on her face. Snape retired to his lab and spent the morning brewing the pepperups requested.

Severus finished everything he could by eleven and a half and getting out of the lab, he went upstairs to prepare something to eat. The stairs creak under his feet made him remember that he had promised himself to fix the house a few months back, not really sure why he should do it if the majority of his time was wasted by down the lab. Severus hummed deep in thought while hearing his stomach grumbling, he was starving since he skipped his breakfast because the annoying Weasley interrupted it.

While preparing lunch he couldn’t avoid those vague memories of Spinner’s end. Even though his childhood weren’t the nicest, his mother always cooked garlic spaghetti in special days, in consequence _very_ rarely, because there was nothing much ‘special’ in his childhood, it was nothing but a cheap enough food that she could pretend it to be ‘special' instead of ordinary like their lives truly were. Severus munched through his spaghetti with sheer hate over himself. He hated life debts.

 He stopped his motions with the fork midway, the Daily Prophet was staring at him across the four-seat table. Stretching his left arm and grabbing it, Severus flipped a few pages back and there it was, on the first page, Potter’s smiling face, a row of perfect lined white teeth. He frowned, this picture did not make sense with what the know-it-all came to tell and _demand_ of him. Tossing the stupid journal aside and resuming his eating while munching his food with more anger, he decided on kicking the brat's butt out of his bed and getting him smiling to everyone else like that horrible picture in less than a week and so, _finally_ , he would be free. No life debts, owing nothing to nobody, except for a little bit of peace to himself.

 

**_~~««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««~~_**

 

Severus showed up at the address the Weasley gave him at one and a half, deeply hoping Potter would be elsewhere. He considered ringing the bell but he was disconcertedly confused with how to do it, there was nothing but numbers from 0 to 9 there, he looked at the paper, reading apartment number 448 in neat handwriting that he marked too many times with the bitterest of criticism while still a professor at Hogwarts. Afraid to embarrass himself ringing the wrong bell he opted to cast a quick Alohomora and the gate unlocked just as fast as he pulled his wand up his sleeve.

It looked like a nice place, very clean like muggles always were and the gardens were nicely cut, full of flowers. There was a lot of grass on both sides of the path he walked on. There was a lift at the side of the corridor and according to Weasley he lived at the 8th floor, he got inside pressing the button taking a deep breath while watching the door close and take him up, it’s not like he had a way out of this whole situation anyway.

When he arrived at Potter’s door he adjusted his robes and stared at the number facing him. 448, a quick check at the paper told him he was at the right place. He still had little hope she had written the address wrong. That would give him a little bit of extra time before having to deal with Potter. He dismissed knocking and cast Alohomora again not expecting the door to open. Surely Potter wouldn’t be that thick? The door opened. He cursed under his breath, honestly, the boy really had a death wish, not even do a simple warding at his own home? Here he was thinking even stupidity had a limit, and wrong he was again.

He opened the door to get inside and darkness greeted him. The curtains were all pulled closed, the silence inside was almost deafening, and at first sight, it looked like no one lived in the place. With a little bit of looking around, he saw a sneaker tossed close to the door, a take-out box forgotten at the coffee table and he counted three empty glasses forgotten over things, one at the counter, another at the coffee table and one at the floor next to the couch. Severus rolled his eyes, it seemed the boy was sloppy even with his home.

‘Mione?’ The voice was tiny and muffled. It twisted something inside him, it didn’t make sense to the image he had in his head of the war hero. ‘…thought you wouldn’t come today’ Snape took a breath and walked silently and slowly to the corridor where Potter’s voice was coming from. Turning a look to the first door at the right he faced a very dark bedroom, a small lump below mountains of blankets told him someone was under them. Snape considered for a brief second to scold the boy, it was one bloody and a half already.

‘Not Hermione’ He stated simply, watching Potter fumbling with the blankets and finally sitting to look at him just like a deer caught in headlights. ‘Get up Potter, we have some talking to do’ He left to the living room.

Looking around he sighed, he took his wand waving the curtains open and allowing some light to enter the room, the glasses and the take out box floated to the kitchen. He heard feet dragging in the corridor and watched Potter walking slowly towards him while squeezing his eyes, unaccustomed to the light, his glasses hanging crooked at the tip of his nose. He was wearing navy blue shorts that looked too big for him, his clothes had always looked big since he can remember Potter, Severus wondered for a second if the boy should start shopping at the kid’s section. He was still the scrawny, fragile thing he remembered teaching potions to, it seemed that would never change, not even after the darkest Wizard of all times downfall. Thinking about it and looking at Potter now, it was rather unbelievable that he was the one who ended such war.

But right now he also looked somehow worse than the time he killed the bastard. He couldn’t point a finger, probably because it was more than one thing combined, he looked unhealthily skinny, too pale and way too tired for someone who was sleeping until a few minutes ago. His shirt was white and ragged at the collar, Severus couldn’t believe that James Potter son had so much disinterest for his own appearance, he always considered them painfully alike. However, he remembered James to be too concerned with his looks all the time, vanity was a big thing for him.

He watched Potter stare as if processing what was happening. Severus wanted to roll his eyes in his skull and curse his own life. He made a vow to protect the boy and fulfilled it, people shouldn’t also expect of him to fix his broken pieces. That was to expect too much out of him. As if waking up from a haze the boy shook his head slightly and walked to the kitchen. The only thing separating it from the living room was a counter with two wooden stools. The small flowerpot decorating the counter had a tiny plant that looked more agonized than himself in this ambient. He walked and sat at the stool waving the wand and recovering the poor plant, it probably wasn’t seeing much water, or light. He looked around, there were a few shelves with some pictures, most of them were of the Weasley and the annoying girl who _demanded_ him to be here. He looked at the brat who was fumbling with a teapot, his hands were shaking and the boy looked close of a collapse.

With an annoyed grunt, Severus got up and walked to the kitchen. Potter stopped dead in his tracks while Severus picked up the teapot off his hands. ‘Sit, I’ll make the tea. You could never brew at my classes, therefore, I don’t expect you to make anything decent in a kitchen’ He would _never_ admit having hoped to crack a smile in Potter’s face or an irritated pull of eyebrows, _anything_ but this dull non-existent reaction. Potter sat without complaint while Severus filled the teapot with water, in silence. After he lit the fire and put it to boil he turned around leaning on the sink, crossing his arms he stared, analysing the boy. They stayed like that for several minutes while he considered to just use legilimency on him to see what was passing inside his peanut brain, but Potter opened his mouth and he sat the idea aside, for now.

‘Mione sent you didn’t she?’ He was looking at his own hands. Severus didn’t answer. ‘It’s alright, I’m alright. I’m sorry she bothered you, sir’ Severus let out a snarl.

‘Don’t lie to my face boy. You’re a rag. It’s almost two in the afternoon and you were sleeping as if it was midnight. Do not underestimate me, telling nonsense like these. I’m smarter than that and you know it’ He expected the boy to cringe or burst out crying with how fragile he looked. He did none, actually, he did nothing. His own hands were still more interesting than Severus’ face and in all fairness, Severus didn’t like his face either. If it was even possible, Harry slumped even more on his seat, he scratched his eyes crooking his glasses again and not bothering to fix it. This image of defeat didn’t sit well in Severus’ stomach. ‘Are you even listening?’

‘It’s just the pills sir... I’ll be fine’ Severus snarled once more, the few steps he took to the counter were done in pure rage. He kept his arms crossed not trusting them to not fly to Potter’s throat and shake him to reality. The boy finally looked at him, green eyes clouded as if he had taken a whole vial of Veritaserum.

‘What pills?’ He said after taking a deep breath, scream with Potter wouldn’t do, he remembered what Granger demanded of him. He shouldn’t harm him in _any_ way. Potter quietly got up and walked off disappearing in the corridor. He pressed his eyes with the point of his fingers, feeling tiredness creeping over him. He didn’t even know how to deal with his own emotions, imagine others. He was a practical creature, he didn’t like to dwell on feelings, he would just shove them deep and lock the door. He had zero ideas how to be emotionally comforting and that was what Granger demanded of him, blasted be that girl. He could clean the place, leave calming potions regularly, hell, he could even give realistic bits of advice to Potter but he couldn’t hug the boy while he cried his eyes out or just… Be there for him. He honestly didn’t know how to do that.

He came back with a flask in his hand placing it on the counter, Severus could see where Hermione came from, she would expect a potioneer’s advice over addiction to be more helpful than any other, especially if the healers in St. Mungus couldn’t be trusted to not leak something like this to the Prophet. Yet, at the same time, Severus had no idea about muggle medicines, only that they were nasty stuff, toxic and hard to get out. He picked up the flask approaching it to his face it read Xanax at the label. He turned it in front of his eyes, it looked like candy,  Severus opened it and sniffed, it had no smell at all. He saw Potter smile at him, it wasn’t much of a smile but it was almost.

‘They’re pills sir, you swallow them with water, or juice, or milk, or any liquid, they don’t taste and don’t smell’ Severus deposited it back on the counter. ‘I’m taking Prozac too, but I ran out this week’ Potter’s hand were still trembling. The water started boiling and Severus turned around to turn it off.

‘And why didn’t simply take calming draughts?’ He put the hot water in the cups and placed the teabags in it to infuse. He turned around placing on the counter a vial of Draught of peace, Potter stared at it.

‘Is this Draught of peace?’ Severus nodded firmly. Harry reached for it. ‘Uh, Thanks sir’ A long silence stretched between them. Severus didn’t know what to say and Potter looked like he was far away.

‘Will you leave this muggle poison?’ green eyes focused again at him.

‘Uh… I… No, potions don’t work. I’ve tried, they… stopped working. Thin elbows were placed on the counter to serve as a pillow to Potter’s head. Severus sighed picking up the two teacups placing one in front of the boy.

‘Do you’ He bit his tongue, he had no idea how to do this. ‘That’s because you’ve built a tolerance to them’ The boy nodded without voicing anything. ‘And now you’re taking these things and look at you boy, you’re barely functional’ He got his head off his arms but was still slouched over the stool.

‘You don’t get it?’ He looked honestly confused. ‘I thought you were the one who could understand... I tried sir, for at least a year, every time I went to sleep he was there, Tom, lurking in my head, promising blood, and then I’d remember everyone, Tonks, Remus, Fred, Lavender, Collin, Mad-eye, Dobby, Dumbledore...’ Severus closed his eyes on the last one, it felt like a punch to his gut. ‘They’re all there, it was my fault, wasn’t it? How much you had to sacrifice for me, and all of them, the order, what they did, I didn’t… After the pensieve and your memories I expected to die, I didn’t make plans in case I survived, I just… I hoped to die, sir. Because, you know… Magic was… the best thing I’ve ever had but I think it’s cursed, I think I’m cursed.’

‘Nonsense. Why would you think you’re cursed?’ Harry’s eyes were dead.

‘Everyone dies. Everyone leaves. I thought I had Sirius but no… I thought, I thought I could pull it off with the Weasley’s help and I did for a while but then Fred’s death ruined everything, it destroyed them too, and then Ginny…’ The boy gave a tiny shrug. ‘It’s my fault. She’s happier now that I left them, they’re happier. I just… I think I ruin everything I touch sir… I ruined the Dursleys too didn’t I?’ He looked at Snape, his eyes were clear like water but so broken that Snape felt at loss of what to do. How the Weasley expected him to fix someone this ruined?

‘Drink your tea’ It was all he could say to the boy, he picked the cup and took a small sip. He wasn’t hoping to spend time with the kid but he clearly needed help. He could say he’d do it in the name of Albus’s death, he could say it was because of that damned life debt. But his indignation when Albus told him Potter had to die replayed in the back of his head, it stopped being in the name of his dearest friend Lily very long ago. Albus twinkling eyes when he asked if he got attached to the boy shined in the back of his eyelids. He picked the medicine shoving It deep in his pocket, Potter just looked. ‘I’m confiscating these’ His eyes shined in desperation.

‘No, no, no, no, Sir, you don’t understand I need… I need it, I can’t… I can’t function without it, I can’t sleep I…’

‘You’re already not functioning Potter!’ He lost his temper, he didn’t need a tantrum right now. He sighed ruining his fingers through his hair. ‘This is how this is going to work, I will regulate the dosages of this thing. You need a break, you can’t live your life through a haze of medications. So I will give them to you regularly so you won’t abuse it, If you start having trouble to sleep I’ll administer calming draughts to you, small dosages that won’t get you addicted in anything else. It will take a while, obviously, but you need to step out of this loop’ Potter said nothing.

‘You’re only helping me because ‘Mione charged her life debt’ Severus nodded seeing no point in denying.

‘And use my help wisely, it won’t happen again since she had only one life debt to charge. You have painfully faithful friends Potter, I would never waste a life debt on you’ Harry scoffed.

‘You and I both then, I don’t have faithful friends. I have stupid ones. Give me my pills and leave me be. Please sir’ The last sentence was so tiny and fragile that almost looked like the boy was begging, it caught Snape off guard.

‘I can’t afford your refusal, my life debt is to Weasley’ Harry sighed looking suddenly much older than twenty.

‘You can, you came, you did everything you could to help, I’m the one who doesn’t want to be helped. Your life debt is paid’ Anger flared in the green eyes and Severus wasn’t certain of how to deal with that too. He was so out of his comfort zone that it was disconcerting. Potter waved his hand and suddenly the blasted flask of muggle poison appeared in his hand. Severus tapped his pocket. Damned be this boy. ‘You can go now sir’

‘No, I can not’ If he wanted to throw a fit Severus would always be a good match. He waved his own hand and the flask was banished to the countertop of his rooms above his apothecary. Harry did nothing, he just got up dragging his feet back to his bedroom. Severus followed him watching him throw himself among the blankets. ‘How many of these do you take per day?’

‘Two’ His voice was muffled and low again. ‘And one of Prozac but I don’t like it, makes me feel funny’

‘Elaborate it Potter’ He crossed his arms leaning at the doorframe. The boy moved under the covers, Severus could see nothing but a lump now.

‘I feel like I’m not myself… Like… I’m out of my body, like… Floating but not floating like… Like I can see everything from above as it was a different person. Like, if I move my arm it’s not me moving it I’m just sitting watching someone else move it you know? I have this when I take only the Alprazolam but When I take the Fluoxetine it’s worse... It’s normal though’ He shrugged, Snape had no idea how to answer.

‘It’s not normal Potter!’ He wanted to shake the boy to reality.

‘It is. It’s called depersonalization, a fancy name for a shitty feeling. These things have this side kicks’ Severus sighed, he’d need to research on muggle medicine now, how they worked, what they did, and he’d need to make a throughout research if these medicines would react with his potions. He needed his lab but he honestly didn’t trust Potter to be alone. Granger told him not to leave him alone either.

‘Get up we’re leaving’ Potter sat, it looked like it took all his strength to do it.

‘Leaving where?’ And now Potter looked too young. Way too young to be going through all this shit.

‘My lab, I have searching to do. Put some decent clothes and come on’ He left, giving room to the boy. It took at least twenty minutes for the door to open, that was the vanity that he thought it was inherited from James. But Potter came out wearing an old pair of jeans, too battered to even look purposefully destroyed, a washed out shirt peeking out of a thick wool pullover too big for his frame. Severus commented nothing on the boy’s appearance, he extended his arm locking the apartment with his wand and casting a few quick warding spells over the place.

Potter touched his pulse, his grasp so light it could almost go unnoticed. Severus apparated directly to his lab.

‘And here I was thinking I really had the lab free of you for a whole day’ Snyde said without tearing the look off of her concocting.

‘Did you lock the store before coming in?’ Potter let go of his arm.

‘Of course, I’m not stupid’ She said turning around, she stretched her neck looking behind Snape and seeing no one less than Harry Potter. She arched one eyebrow sending questioning looks to her boss. ‘Wow, finally we can put one of those stickers at our vitrine, Harry Potter has been here’ Severus snorted, and Harry gave her a smile. ‘I’m Merula Snyde. A pleasure to meet the saviour of the Wizarding world, I personally loved how you ended Voldemort, I’ll be sure to get far away from you when you use an Expelliarmus. My parents were all for the pure-blood thing, they’re in Azkaban, first war thing. I grew out of it, It’s stupid anyway so thank you, sir, for your service. I’m a fan, I also love Quidditch, pity you’re a Gryffindor but well… not everything is perfect’ She was frantically shaking Harry’s hand and Snape was thorn between snort at the girls rambling or curse her.

Potter looked lost but eventually, he cracked a tiny smile 'Please call me Harry, nice to meet you too' Snape grunted, Harry-so-fucking-polite-Potter was annoying to an unending extent. Snyde smiled back and noticing his bad mood made a quick exit to her own cauldron, at least the girl had some brain in her.

‘You can go upstairs and rest if you want. I'll take a while on my research. Is there any book that explains how this medicine of yours function?’ Harry looked very small from Snape’s point of view.

'Uh, yeah when you buy them they come with an info leaflet' Snape arched an eyebrow. ‘I threw it away' The sentence sounded very alike the excuses Potter used to get out of his detentions.

‘Because you’re an imbecile' Merula snorted from her seat, Severus didn’t bother to glare at her. 'Where am I supposed to get one of these now?’ Potter patted his pockets retrieving a wallet. He pulled a few pieces of paper.

‘This is the prescription for them. And some cash, go buy them and you’ll have your package leaflet with everything you need to know' Snape sighed picking what Potter was giving to him, muggle money was fragile, nothing but paper. He had vain memories of his father drinking to oblivion using these pieces of paper, he apparated to a discreet area of muggle London without saying anything.

When he got back it was only Merula in the lab, he _didn’t_ worry for a single second. ~~~~

**_~~‘~~_** Golden-war-hero-boy is at your rooms, he went upstairs as soon as you left. I think he’s sleeping, he looks like shit. What’s going on? Thought you dreaded him' She looked up of her notes glaring at Severus. ~~~~

'Keep your nosy face where it belongs. I still can fire you' She had the audacity to laugh.

‘Yeah, because anyone you hire will deal just fine with your moodiness. You need to shag Snape, maybe it will lift your humour' She smiled slyly. ‘In fact... The golden boy is at your bed right now, be a little shrewd and use your Slytherin resourcefulness' Snape grabbed her own notes hitting her own head with it.

She laughed, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, maybe say something potentially hurtful one time or another but she knew not to take it to heart because Snape hardly said things intending to hurt those he appreciated. Most of the time, when he worried about someone, the hurtful things he said where the deep truth with the intents of help. Merula pitied the man for his incapability of sugarcoating his words, it put a strain of all of his relationships as most people don’t know how to deal with his salty personality.

‘If you make another comment remotely like that you will find your butt in the streets' He left upstairs, leaving Merula still smiling slyly. Right, because all of the sacrifices he made to Harry Potter were _only_ to pay debts, no attachment to the Gryffindor _at all._

Snape still felt like cursing the girl, as if he would ever do anything like that to a scrawny barely functional kid. He stepped in his rooms, it was more like a flat honestly. He opened the door at the end of the stairs facing a small squared kitchen a four-seat table was at his right, a wall at the right with a window illuminating a small sink and a stove at the left of it. At the other wall in front of him, across his small rooms was a half-open door leading to his bedroom.

Snape went there stepping in darkness, he did say Potter could rest. He was laying on the right side of the bed, blankets covering his small frame and he looked very tiny on it, there was a bedside table at the left, the side he slept every day, the book-ingredients for master potions- he was reading the previous night was still the same way he left. Severus cursed under his breath, the flask of the goddamn pills was tossed over the book, open. He felt like strangling Potter or at least screaming at his face.

He sighed scratching his forehead and shifting his weight from one leg to another. How this wrecked boy could be the same one smiling to the papers just yesterday? He walked to the bedside table, the old wooden floor cracking under his weight. He picked up the flask shoving in his pocket while making a mental note to leave it where Potter couldn’t find. He left closing the door behind his back and heading to his lab again.

Merula said nothing else when he showed up again and Severus was grateful for her lack of wordiness. He sat in front of his cauldron opening the box of Prozac and Xanax he bought pulling the leaflets Potter mentioned.

The letters were tiny and Severus used an Engorgio charm on it. More than half an hour later and he was still reading de side effects both of these medications had. Merula finished her notes and went back to reopen the apothecary at three. Nausea, fatigue, difficulty in concentrating, confusion, low blood pressure, memory problems, decreased coordination. He remembered Potter’s trembling hands while reading the last one. The list was huge, it also talked about dependency and that it couldn’t be taken with alcohol. It had more side effects than any potion he had ever seen and he couldn’t grasp the fact that Potter would take something like this on his own will.

The draught of peace also had calming effects but it barely scratched the surface of what these medicines did. Not that it was more or less effective but, definitely, the muggle pills acted in a deeper level and also a more harming one. He scratched his primary idea of administering potions to lessen the withdrawal symptoms. He could not risk mixing any potion with this, not if he wanted to see Potter wide awake and well. He picked the Prozac box looking at it, he had questions to Potter but the boy probably was still sound asleep so he decided he’d brew random potions to fill up his shelves. He remembered Merula mentioning the previous day a request of Felix Felicis and he decided to do that, the sooner he started, the sooner the six-month stewing would be over.

The rest of the afternoon was spent on brewing the potion. Merula came to the lab around six telling she’d wrapped up the day and left, it was nearly eight when he was about to put everything in a stasis spell and rest for a while that he heard the crack on his stairs and Potter showed at the door of his lab. He was shivering and had Snape’s favourite blanket wrapped up tightly around his shoulders.

'I've read the leaflets. I still fail to see how you took these things without any concern for your well-being. It is more damaging than beneficial' He finally waved his wand putting everything on stasis.

'It's not. Believe me, sir, they do me good... They did... I don’t know anymore' green eyes stared deeply in pure black ones. Severus pulled a chair by his side and trembling Potter sat. ‘Uh... I...’ Harry laughed in an honest way, one that Severus thought the boy didn’t have in him anymore 'Do you remember... Uh... Roony Wazlib?’ His eyes were suddenly shining and for once he looked exactly like a twenty-year-old.

'Roonil' Severus corrected him, a small side smile at his face. ‘I also remember the detention and how you said it was unfair' The boy frowned.

‘No sir... It wasn’t. I... Malfoy too. I hurt him right? Uh... Sectumsempre right?’ Severus frowned.

'Sectumsempra Potter and Malfoy had it coming that day. I imagined Slughorn to be more intelligent than leaving such a book around his shelves for random students to pick it up. Where is it now anyway? Harry looked lost in his own thoughts.

‘Uh... I... I think it was destroyed, sir... I left... The room of requirement. Yes, I left there and then the Fiendfyre probably burned it' Severus nodded, of course, he didn’t like to hear his favourite book and all his notes and such knowledge was destroyed. But on the other hand, it was better left destroyed than in the hands of another kid who would try to use dark spells against his enemies again. He stared at the boy, his speech was slouchy and he seemed to be having memory problems too. Severus didn’t like it.

‘Are you hungry?’ Potter shook his head. ‘If you’re barely presentable right now and worrying so much your side-kicks tell me how come you seemed so happy on yesterday’s Daily prophet picture?’ The million dollar question was out now.

‘What? What picture?’ Potter looked at him as if he’d grown another head.

‘The three-year anniversary picture Potter'

‘I didn’t leave home yesterday' He shrugged as if it was not a big deal. Severus hummed deep in thought.

‘Then how come your picture ended up at the papers alongside the perfect couple?’ Potter just shrugged. 'Polyjuice?’

'Mione does know how to make it' He looked pale, his hands didn’t stop trembling. ‘I think I should go home, sir. Uh... I... You bought the pills right?’

'I told you I read the leaflets the moment you came in so obviously I bought them Potter' Harry said nothing to his rashness.

'Can I have them?’

‘No’ They didn’t argue over it any further. 'Tell me the hours of the day you take them'

‘Uh... Whenever? Like... When I feel bad I take Prozac and when I start to get edgy I take Xanax and when I want to sleep too' Severus could punch something right now.

'Thought you said you took them twice a day' Foggy green eyes blinked at him as if trying to process what he said.

'Uh... Yeah... Twice that’s right at night and mornings' Snape arched one eyebrow.

‘And whenever too?’ Potter’s shoulder slumped.

'Whenever It’s really really bad days sir. Most of the times taking twice knock me out enough'

‘Very well, I thought about associating it with potions to avoid withdrawal but I won’t do such a thing. These medicines are dangerous on their own. I’ll lower the dosages slowly. Right now you’ll take a full pill at night and three-quarters of one at mornings alright?’ Potter nodded.

‘And the Prozac?’

'One in the afternoons, we’ll take you off the Alprazolam first, we’ll worry about the Prozac later' Potter tensioned on the chair.

'Uh... I tried that sir... I get edgy. Alprazolam’s the only thing that gets me to calm down.’

'We'll take a trial, Potter, if it’s not working we try another way'

'But sir...’

‘ENOUGH! Thanks to your little friend I’m trapped with your junkie ass now, we’ll do this and we’ll do it my way, wanting it or not you hear me? I don’t care how tragic life is Potter, I told you this once in occlumency lessons and I tell you again. Life-is-NOT-fair. I’d never help you if it wasn’t for your friends, don’t think for a second that I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. For once, get your head out of your own ass and start realising you have friends that are worried about you and want to actually help you before there’s not much left of your brain!’ Severus saw the green eyes shine with tears, it made him wonder if he fucked up royally or if he made Potter see what was in front of his nose. ‘You’ll be staying here tonight, I’ll keep an eye on you'

He picked the Xanax bottle in his pocket and opened it extending one to the boy. Potter picked it up and left quietly the green eyes looked lost again when he looked Severus one last time before leaving. The stairs creaking were the only indication that he was going upstairs instead of out of his life.

Severus looked at his potion in stasis and realized he’d rather brew for a few more hours before going up and to deal with the boy with this thought it n his mind he removed the stasis of his cauldron and kept brewing until ten.

 

**_~~««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««~~_**

 

His kitchen looked almost normal when he finally came up, almost being the keyword. His heart missed a beat when he looked over his table and saw the bottle of Firewhisky he kept in his cupboard. It still had approximately a quarter inside it and he remembered exactly that the last time he tasted the amber liquid the bottle was half empty. Snape cursed among his breath, hurrying to his bedroom. Potter was thrown across his bed, his body half covered with the same blanket he was hugging earlier in his lab. The vial of draught of peace he gave him at his apartment was empty, thrown on the bedside table and Snape worried the boy might be dead, he couldn’t see him breathing from his point of view.

He stepped closer making a quick check on his vitals. His heart rate was extremely low and so was his breathing but he was alright. He pulled a chair from his kitchen next door using an Accio and sat at the bedside watching Potter just in case of an emergency. Guilty swallowing him while he looked at the closed eyelids, he shouldn’t have been so rough on his words earlier. But he couldn’t grasp how daft the boy was being, just because of a few harsh and honest words he didn’t expect to nurture death wishes on the brat.

Deciding to think on the next morning about which course of action would prove more effective, he got up transfiguring the chair he sat just now in a mattress while finally coming to the conclusion that he should write a list of life debts Potter owed him. He’d charge all of them making him scrub dirty and nasty cauldrons for the rest of his miserable life. Too tired to bother himself to take a bath he cast cleaning charms over himself and the half-alive boy sleeping on his bed. With his skin prickling of the recent cleansing, Severus drifted off to sleep.


	2. Coca-cola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I managed to finish the chapter before the deadline which is awesome!
> 
> Quick WARNING!  
> ●This chapter includes a panic attack, not very heavy but I'm placing the warning anyway.  
> ● I'm also placing a TRIGGER WARNING in Harry's Point of View. There is nothing super heavy but => It includes depersonalization, depressive thoughts, some PTSD (non-explicit), a very brief allusion to suicide, and abuse of substances.  
> => I tried to write his PoV in a more subjective style, trying to avoid it to be triggerish, but still, I prefer to include the trigger warning for those who may feel sensitive about it, so be careful.  
> ● Harry's PoV is the only one that will be written in first person, since he's going through a rough phase he spends a lot of time in his head and it was more fitting the first person narrative for him.
> 
> Have a nice reading!

While walking through the ministry a very thoughtful Hermione bit her lips, had she done the right thing? The same question played loops inside her head. Ron would definitely throw a fit, she could almost hear him screaming that the _‘greasy git’_ would only make everything worse. It was on her best intentions to help, Harry has been difficult and everyone was at a loss of what to do. She could recognize that _maybe_ she should have talked about her idea with someone else prior to just going for it. But, she could also picture havoc at the burrow on disagreements and everyone stating that Snape couldn’t be any good at helping and would just ruin things further.

 _Obviously,_ Hermione recognized the intrinsic bitterness Snape possessed. However, she also remembered that even though “hating” Harry since ever, after everything she was told post-war, she formulated a new opinion that the man never _truly_ hated him, even while he still pretended to do so up to this day. She still needed to write a whole essay on the subject to prove the facts and call the man out on his lie. What was certain was that Snape never failed to save Harry, not even once. And Harry _needed_ saving, he was already past the point that everyone thought to be just a funk, he was sick, he was depressed, and he was spiralling down faster than a Firebolt (Ron’s stupid words, not hers).

Leaving the lift and reaching the Department for Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, she was greeted by a few co-workers on her way. The S.P.E.W bottoms proudly attached to the robes of some of them. Seeing this made her smile proudly, she would change the wizarding world, but in order to do that, she needed her friends by her side. Hermione needed Harry to be healthy... They never accomplished anything only by themselves, they were a team and she would fight to the last straw for each one of them. Even if meant facing a bunch of furious Weasleys stating that Snape was a very _bad_ idea. Determination filled her chest, she had been saving those two dunderheads since always, she could write a list the size of a Quidditch pit of all the different ways Ron and Harry would be dead if it wasn’t for her. She would not fail now and she definitely needed to make Ron stop talking about Quidditch _all the time,_ it was getting to her brain _._  

She knew that it was the worst idea facing a troll with only eleven while barely knowing Leviosa, Ron and Harry did it anyway in order to save her life and for that, she’d be eternally grateful. Those two didn’t stop making stupid decisions after that and she didn’t stop helping them to make it, they didn’t stop pulling through every single one of them either. Even if Snape was a bad decision she was certain that she would regret more for not trying, besides she had no idea over what to charge his life debt if not with Harry, the man couldn’t tolerate anything. He could curse, kick and punch using nothing but vile words but she knew, when looking into his eyes, that he would _always_ , help Harry willingly –with a little bit of a push on the right direction-.

She ran normally through her day, every day was a busy one at the Being Division but almost completing her second year of working there, she already got used to it. Hermione used the floo network to get home, it was the busiest hour of the day, every co-worker going home too and it made her wonder for a moment if he should have apparated instead. Using the extra time on thinking of how to approach and telling her husband that she had the brilliant idea of forcing Severus Snape to babysit Harry she got home on what seemed to be no time at all.

‘Hey!’ Ron was already over her, helping to take off the uniform robes. Hermione smiled watching him hang it next to the fireplace. Feeling more at home, she took off her shoes and undid the hair she used every day at work. Wearing a muggle formal shirt with wool slacks and socks she finally felt at home

‘Hi, how was your day?’ She asked after Ron stole a quick kiss. Hermione smiled sitting at the loveseat in front of the fireplace her husband sat beside her. This part of their routine was very mundane and it was also her favourite. When they’d sit and just share the small bits of their work life, maybe over a drink or two.

‘I’m wrecked, this training it’s getting worse each day, I can’t wait for it to be over’ Hermione looked at her husbands face, she knew the sentence he left hanging between them. He wished Harry was with him, it was their plan since _ever_. They’d go to Auror training together. She smiled sadly, she wished Harry was there with him too. ‘How about you? Please tell me you had a more exciting day than me’ The please was dragged and she laughed soundlessly. Her smile died shortly as she remembered her morning on the apothecary.

‘Uh, actually… My day at work was very ordinary too. The only highlight was a minor problem with a group of muggles who spotted a wizard doing stupid tricks, we Obliviated them rather easily. The rest was nothing but paperwork.’ Ron grunted slouching on the couch.

‘I _know_ You-know-who was awful, but I had more fun breaking rules at Hogwarts, O.W.L.S, Dark Lord, Snape, Trelawney… Even with ALL of that, it was still a better time’ They both laughed in an honest way, a sense of nostalgia invading their minds. However, it was fleeting. The unsaid was left hanging, _it was a better time because Harry was alright_. ‘I miss him Mione’ He paused running his hands through his face and hair in a nervous way. ‘And now I’m talking as if he’s dead… Great’ She put her feet over his legs waving her wand and muttering Accio. A muggle beer bottle flew to her hand, she opened it taking a sip and extending it to Ron who took it, drinking it too.

‘Harry will be alright Ron...’ She munched her lip, he had to be.

'If he just talked you know... How are we supposed to help if he won’t talk Mione? He just... Why he won’t say what’s wrong?’ He started massaging her feet and a little bit of tension left her body.

‘I got him to talk a little bit yesterday. He says it’s the medication and he’ll be fine. I tried to convince him otherwise... How it will make him better if he's taking it to just sleep all day? I mean… It would make sense if he was taking it to get better and at least trying to be healthy but at this point... He’s just being stupid by refusing help and thinking that sleep through his day on heavy meds will solve everything.’ She took a deep breath disentangling one of her curls. ‘He didn’t want to tell me what he’s taking so I could do some research to help, he didn’t want to tell me why he feels the need to take them. I think he’s not even seeing a muggle doctor or a therapist because no doctor would hand him prescriptions indiscriminately and allow him to be that reckless’

'Blimey... Why you’re only telling me now? I could have gone with you and try to talk with him' Hermione stared at her husband, she knew that if Ron had seen what she did yesterday it would only hurt him further, it hurt her too. Losing Fred shook the Weasley's to the core and seeing Harry, his best friend the way she did yesterday would just break Ron a little bit more.

‘Sorry, It’s just... With Ginny here instead of The Burrow since yesterday. I thought to give you two more space. Did she said anything about Harry?’ Ron shrugged.

‘She said she wanted to see him, but that we should ask him first. I think she expects that Harry won’t want to see her? I mean, it’s confusing as fuck, why they don’t talk Mione? It’s like walking around completely blind, she’s hiding something. But she won’t tell and then Harry won’t tell either. Everything is a mess... I think you suspect what they are hiding’ She gulped.

‘I have no idea what happened between them, I just know that Ginny won’t talk, Harry won’t talk and I’m as much left on the dark as you are. All I have is a bunch of theories that without proof can be just crazy speculations, so I won’t say anything. I’m trying to help with what I know and what I know is that Harry needs to stop whatever he’s doing. If Ginny knows more than we do I just hope she’ll come around to help us too'

‘She’s already doing that. She’s worried too. She’s just hiding something' Ron took a big sip of the beer swallowing it. ‘And I thought Snape was the one who had secrets... My own baby sister hiding things from me about my best friend as if it was nothing' Ron shook his head in disappointment.

‘Talking about Snape…’ The pattern of the flowery couch looked more interesting than Ron’s face all of a sudden. She could feel her cheeks heating. Ron took the beer can to his mouth while nodding his head silently, urging her to talk ‘I charged that life debt today’ His body went petrified by her side. She actually heard him gulping.

‘What?’ His voice came out screeched, tension taking over them both. ‘Please Mione, please tell me you charged it with some super rare useless potion that will take him a whole year to brew and will make all of his greasy hair fall off from the potion fumes.’ He was begging and she could have actually laughed of his awful joke if it weren’t for the circumstances.

‘I told him to help Harry’ She said in a spurt. Ronald cursed straightening his back and pulling her feet off his lap. Hermione straightened her spine ready to defend her decision.

‘Fuck Hermione! You know he will fuck up. Harry is really bad and he doesn’t need Snape’s venom right now... They _hate_ each other’ Heavy emphasis was put on the hate word.

‘The correct is _Harry_ _hated_ him. As in Harry and past tense. Snape played us all alright? He was a spy playing to hate us because what do you think they would do to him if the death-eaters children at Hogwarts came home telling their parents that Voldemort’s best servant shared tea and biscuits with Harry Potter of all people!’ With her voice rising one tone she didn’t bother to try making herself less flustered, she was sure she was right, it was the right thing to do.

‘That’s bullshit! He loathed you too, and me, and Neville! That man is evil Mione!’ Ron was screaming in a strangled way as if he was trying not to scream but not exactly avoiding it either

‘It’s obvious that he hated us too, we were Harry’s friends for Merlin’s sake!’ Hermione was on full argumentative screams now.

‘He is bitter, evil, acid and one bad word out of that greasy bat’s mouth will RUIN Harry. You shouldn’t have done this!’ Her eyes filled with tears and Ron got up of the couch and started pacing in front of her pulling strands of his red hair.

‘Ronald! Did you even hear what I told you about Harry yesterday? You should have seen him when I went to fetch him for the tribute on the war memorial! If you think it was bad, you have NO idea. Harry needs serious help Ron' Her voice died down at the last sentence and Ron’s arms fell flat by his side as he stopped his pacing, tears were running down her face. She stretched her arms grabbing her husband hands.

‘He’s just sad, he’ll pull it off like always Mione’ His voice was rough from repressing an outburst and Hermione hiccupped cleaning her face the best she could with only one hand. Ron held her hand harder sitting back at her side.

‘No Ron… He’s not… He’s… Please trust me on this? Back me up? Everyone will throw a fit when they hear that Snape is the one helping him. We’ll keep a close watch, Snape has a lot of knowledge, he’s pretty much the only one who knows what to do and have the available time to deal with it the right way while also not leaking it to the Prophet and ruining Harry’s mental state even more. Besides… Besides, he never failed to save Harry... He’ She chocked on tears and took a shaky breath. ‘All those times. He never failed. Promise me you’ll trust my decision? Please? I don’t think Harry would accept help from anyone else, he… He told me to fuck off yesterday Ron’ She cried a little bit harder on the last sentence. Ron caressed her hand in a soothing manner and gave a silent shrug, Hermione sighed on relief. They hugged each other drowning on worries over their dearest friend’s behalf until she managed to stop her tears from falling.

'Even so... Did it had to be the greasy git?’ She laughed among her sadness.

‘If I charged a life debt without involving Harry he’d find a loophole, trick us all, get out clean all while offending us, calling me a know-it-all and you a faithful sidekick. But I know he’ll do it right because it’s _Harry_ ’ She couldn’t see Ron’s frown from her position, cocooned against his chest, but she could feel it. Ron scoffed. ‘Do you honestly think he’d pay a life debt willingly if Harry wasn’t involved?’

'Of _course_ no _..._ ’                                          

 

There’s some tender beauty to melancholy. Most of the time it’s an addictive beauty, you look around yourself and think ‘how come a whole consciousness, an endless sea of thoughts and emotions, a real, unwavering universe can be trapped inside just one fragile body?’ You look inside and you are _infinite._ But then, you look at the tip of your fingers and you are nothing but matter. You’re just endless, you’re a random lottery who managed to survive until this moment and you have an inner time counting down your days and seconds. Now, you’re feeling broken and it is so much more interesting to look inside yourself and realize that other people have whole universes inside them too. It’s easier to just take a few pills every day and watch the world spin, again and again, the morning comes, then the afternoon, the night, and the wheel keeps turning, people die and are born each second, nothing new. Whole universes die and are created every millisecond, you are so tiny, so meaningless compared to all of that you are less than an atom in this whole organized chaos that is our universe and still you are infinite too, at least from the inside.

When I realized that, I looked around myself and felt _so_ old and tired, I felt like I’ve lived my whole life but was still twenty and it felt so overwhelming. It felt too much. You can’t skip time, you can’t skip heartbreaks and pain, you can’t look at your fingertips and make it vanish. It’s impossible to make yourself to just merge within the space around you, to turn as endless on the outside as you are on the inside. It’s easier to just turn to yourself, to travel through the fog of your brain and live in your own thoughts because everything else is too pointless. You go nowhere fighting the clock but you can’t skip time and you can’t hold it back either.

You are powerless to time and powerless to pain, and powerless to everything that is thrown at you at every turn.

‘Are… You… Even… Listening…?’ I flexed my fingertips, I wish I could be endless, it would be easier to just merge and cease existing, there would be no feelings, no empty either, there would be nothing, and nothing is not empty. Empty is what I have now.

‘It’s just the pills, sir… I’ll be fine’ My mouth moved and eyes looked up at me, black eyes boring into my soul and it felt just too much. I wanted to close my eyes, it was too much of everything. But it wasn’t me on my own body, so I just watched it.

‘What… Pills’ There was a filter on my brain that seemed to slow things down. Feet sliding on the floor. 1, step, 2, step, 3, step, 4, step, 5, step, 6, step, 7, step, 8, step, 9 step, turn on the right, this body knew what to do and so I let it. The touch of the bathroom cabinet on my hands felt odd but the bottle of pills felt so familiar that it felt like coming home. I decided to just keep floating where I was right now, it felt comfortable. I wasn’t doing any of this and was fine with it, sometimes I was not, sometimes it was annoying. Sometimes, I wanted the controls of life back but even when I grasped them, I knew it wouldn’t take long to slip up. It was easier to swallow the pills, they made everything dull and bearable, my grasp on myself is very weak, and I would always easily let it go because it does not matter if sometimes I wanted my life back, I don’t think it’s worth it, it’s too painful. It’s painful to live because melancholy is beautiful and addictive and hugged me like a boa constrictor. When it started suffocating too much I’d take another pill, she’d let go among the fog on my head but I’d always keep her at arm’s length because I didn’t know how to let it go anymore. I didn’t have the power to send it away, to pretend it wasn’t there, it hugged me one day and I let it and now I was just too weak to fight it anymore.

I think we talked, me and Snape… I can’t recall everything but he looked angry, Snape always looked angry, I deserved his anger. His robes still billowed when he moved furiously. I moved back to my bedroom and laid down, it felt like being hugged under the covers, maybe it was like a mum’s hug but I couldn’t know, but it felt close to the times Molly hugged me softly, without all the fussing and bone-crushing. He told me to do something before he left and closed the door, but I was just sitting there trying to unravel what was happening, it felt like a delirious dream that I had too many times, but I knew I was awake this time and I wondered if I was finally going mad for real.

‘Get… Dressed’ Oh, right, that, we were going out. I let my body do the motions, between the fog, the boa constrictor’s hug and the floating, it was too cosy to motion back and take the control.

I met a girl, she looked nice enough, it was fast and I can’t exactly record her face with how fast she moved to leave. I found the pills at Snape rooms, maybe I shouldn’t take it but it was starting to get too much, I knew that soon I would suffocate and it was always ugly and messy when it happened. I took one and soon sleep hugged me, I never dreamt when I took them and it was peaceful, it was the closest I could get to non-existence.

 When I woke up I felt fine, the pills were gone from the bedside table. I felt light, and it felt so nice. Sometimes it happened, it was when I’d take control again and could feel normal. When I was fine for a while without the haze and shadows of meds and without pain, and boa-constrictors suffocating me. I went looking for Snape, my brain finally catching up with everything. Mione charged a life-debt because she thought I needed help, I thought that too, but I also thought that I was beyond help.

When I found him, he talked about the leaflets, Snape was talking as if they were evil little things, I thought otherwise, they did have the potentiality to be bad because Alprazolam could be addictive. I’ve read them all before diving in, they weren’t bad, they were what kept me going. Sometimes, when caught between two hard choices you have to know how to choose, you have to choose the one who will hurt least those around you. I’d never regret taking them because of times like these, where I had a little bit of control and could joke, smile and laugh and see Hermione and Ron and everyone and Snape... I missed him. If it wasn’t for the meds I’d probably have done something stupid years ago, and even with a lot of fog because of them, I couldn’t imagine causing pain to my friends for being stupid. I just wanted them to see that they weren’t what was ruining me, I was ruining myself, my brain was crumbling in pieces and I was just trying to pull it together and get to the next morning, and then the afternoon, the night and then everything all over again.

 _'…Believe me, sir, they do me good... They did... I don’t know anymore'_ I needed help, I knew, because each day was getting harder to be like I was right now and I had none to blame but myself, I was the one taking them nonstop, but if I didn’t do that I don’t think I’d be here right now. I enjoyed these little moments where I felt in the present, for whatever little they were. Memories of my sixth year flared on my head, I enjoyed these little grasps because I could remember and laugh over things again, and it was like a breath of fresh air all over me. I could actually feel _happy_ at these times _. 'Do you remember... Uh... Roony Wazlib?’_ There was bubbling on my chest that I didn’t felt for a while, and I was laughing and _so_ happy and I never thought I could be happy alongside Snape again, he should hate me, I also never thought that I could be happy over memories again either.

But then Draco… Sectumsempra as Snape said… I hurt him and I almost lost the little I got back, it felt hard to breathe but Snape’s voice was here and my feet were touching the ground. I wasn’t floating and he changed the subject to his book and it felt easier to breathe again.

Sometimes memories came so easily and naturally, but other times it was actually really hard. Sometimes they would get foggy and tangled and it felt like walking on a maze while going over them and selecting the right ones. Other times it was hard to know if they really happened or if I was making them up. Even after killing the Horcrux, sometimes it was hard to tell if it was me or Tom lurking in my brain. I had to remind that Tom was dead, sometimes I’d have some episodes thinking that he was me and each day it was getting harder to know that he was truly gone, there were times that I just felt so out of control… It was awful.

He asked about a picture on the Daily Prophet and when he explained it, for a moment, my heart stopped. I took deep breaths, I knew Tom was dead, I knew it was an irrational fear, I wasn’t him, he couldn’t take control. I started to detach again, to feel like I was floating above, my feet got numb and my fingers too. I heard Polyjuice and I thought about Hermione, second year. My hold was tiny but I was still here, so I decided to ask about my meds. I was fine, we were fine, but then Snape started yelling when I said I already tried his idea. Hurtful and honest words left his mouth, I was a junkie, life is tragic and no one cares, _he’d never help me._ I looked at his eyes and I saw so much anger, he should hate me, I hated me too. I deserved that, _he’d never help me._

There’s something beautiful and tender about melancholy, the beautiful is when you can keep it tamed, when you can hold it in your arms almost like a friend that understands your feelings. But it’s tender and fleeting. Sometimes, a drop of water can make waves capable of drowning. Sometimes all it takes is a drop, a single phrase _I'd never help you_ , and the waves get too big, _worthless, freak, weak, monster, useless, stupid_ , and just like that melancholy turns into a raging storm with furious waves that want nothing but to sink you down. I let go of my hold, floating was easier, it was easier feeling hurt from afar through a haze of meds or through the haze of my own mind. I was looking inside and feeling endless and wanting nothing but to merge to nonexistence with my surroundings.

He offered me a pill, I took it and left. Even distanced from everything, surrounded by clouds my own thoughts were a nightmare at these times, they’d wreck all my barriers and they were worse than any words that I could actually listen to. Any harsh thing Snape said, my own brain was capable of twist it and make it big like a tsunami, and I would drown really bad on a loop of self-worthlessness. Because there was _nothing_ anyone could say to me that could hurt me more than the things I’d say to myself.

At times like these, I was a magnet for finding alcohol and I knew it was bad, all of Hermione’s speeches bore in my brain but it still wasn’t enough, it never was enough on really _really_ bad days. It felt practically unconscious the way the bottle flew to my mouth helping me swallowing the pill. I couldn’t feel the tears but I could remember the small vial of Draught of peace in my pocket and I just wanted it to stop, I had to stop it somehow. I was begging over and over for it to stop but the wheel keeps turning, the clock never slows down and neither rush. When I tumbled over the bed it was nothingness that greeted me and it felt like pure bliss.

 

When he woke up the next morning, Potter was sitting on the bed staring at him. Snape grunted with a brain still fogged from sleep. Looking at the brat, he noticed he had his eyes puffy, probably from crying. Sitting on the transfigured mattress, the small of his back complained from the lack of comfort and he cursed his age, Severus was no teenager to be dealing with emotional wrecks nor a mental counsellor to make Potter see life through pink-goggles.

'I'm sorry for making you sleep on the floor' Snape grunted running a hand through his hair, the potion’s fumes had turned it greasy again, he regretted not having bathed last night. Cleaning charms weren’t comparable with a real throughout scrubbing and years of doubling agent working around the clock for two sides taught him exactly that.

‘Is that the only thing you are sorry for? Believe me, Potter, I am much more pissed about the Firewhisky at my table' Potter looked at him, big bloodshot eyes.

'Oh... Right, sorry, I’ll buy you another bottle' His skinny long fingers were fidgeting with the blanket and he looked like a kid caught red-handed playing pranks. Snape closed his eyes feeling like sleeping for two more hours, it felt just like Hogwarts all over again with Albus muttering on his ear to protect the boy, he decided to not admit he didn’t care about the wasted drink.

‘You almost killed yourself last night Potter. If you have a death wish don’t make your friends waste their life debts over nothing' He got up, his knees cracking in line with his spine. ‘Come, I’ll make some tea, do you appreciate croissants?’

‘I... Yeah' Severus didn’t linger his look on the grateful smile the brat threw towards him. He felt wish to return it but didn’t, emotions never favoured him. He was always the kind of man capable of holding deep, inside lock and key, a lot of sentiment towards important people on his life but only a small handful were ever grateful for it. He didn’t expect Potter to be one of these, maybe he was now that Severus was the one helping him, however, he could easily picture Potter ignoring him and easily moving on as soon as he got better, after all, he did that once, didn’t he? Deciding not to dwell on the past he left to the kitchen.

He placed the teapot over the fire. Potter locked himself in the bathroom, probably pissing or washing his blotched face trying to look at least presentable. Severus waved his wand, the milk, flour, and all the required ingredients flew from the cupboard mixing themselves on the air. By the time the boy left the bathroom his magic-made croissants were sitting warm on a plate beside a full pot of earl grey tea.

Severus knew he never was the best cook in the world, a paradox he tried hard to fix until these days. Since he was overconfident while brewing potions over a cauldron, it would be natural to be as good as a house elf in a kitchen. Still, even after testing different recipes for years, his cooking kept being mediocre at best. Nevertheless, it still felt bitter and offensive to watch the boy eat with such distaste. He kept taking tiny bites almost as if he was a rat gnawing the food. On the other hand, Severus thought, he probably was just hungover, taking another look he ushered Potter to eat more, he felt justified in doing that since he couldn’t remember ever seeing the brat that underweight, he put aside the fact that his croissants weren’t even that good.

It took long, Severus kept filling the teacup and pointing to the croissant every time he started looking to be far away, those green-clouded almost Veritaserum-like eyes bore into his soul too many times on one single breakfast to make him feel any comfortableness. He knew Potter wanted to mention the past, probably apologize and the mere thought of it made his skin crawl. The screech owl had already brought the Daily Prophet and Snyde had already shown up and opened the store by the time Potter finished eating, the tea was more towards the colder side of warm. Severus didn’t want to, he felt like holding back but he knew that would probably give the boy a withdrawal and he didn’t want that either. He got up fetching a knife and slicing one pill of Alprazolam on half, he had promised three quarters but he didn’t know how long he could stomach that clouded, disintegrated Harry Potter sat at his table.

Potter took it without complaints and swallowed with a gulp of tea. Severus left to his lab not trusting himself to voice anything that wouldn’t hurt the brat and not savouring the idea of being by his side either.

 

 

‘Mom is handling things the best way she can. Dad is still very broken but he’s holding together, the worst has already passed. I still can’t believe there’s already over a year since Fred, I miss him too much. Sometimes Percy drops by and I can see he tries hard not to cry. George still tries to prank us all and pretend he’s alright but we know he’s not the same anymore. No one is.

Harry left the Auror program, he’s not talking why. I don’t think he’s okay. He won’t say what happened between the two of you. Reach out to him Ginny, please. He’s very sad and I think he misses you. We miss you too.

She took a deep breath while reading the lasts paragraphs for what it seemed the fourth time already. Harry left the Auror program, she sighed looking at the blue sky extending in front of her. She was still angry, well... Not angry per se. She knew it wasn’t Harry’s fault, nor her’s. He was a true gentleman for telling her he didn’t like her before they went any further on their relationship. But she was heartbroken, she loved Harry, she still loves him, with all her heart and with everything she is. It hurts her deeply the fact that Harry Potter will never love her the same way she does and she needs to get over it first. A flush of air passed next to her ear with a flash of green and yellow.

'Ginny! Train begins in five!’ She wiped the single tear running down her cheeks and folded Ron’s letter tucking it inside her uniform, she missed her insane family, but she also needed this time far away from them to grow up a little bit more and finally being seen on their eyes as an adult and not their baby girl. She plunged at free fall and drawled the handle of her broom to break her speed only a few seconds away of crashing on the floor, the few teammates who were closer to her stop point greeted her when she started hovering.

The enchanted instruments on the empty bleaches were playing the Holyhead Harpies chant in a loop, it always cheered up their training but today she felt that even that couldn’t do much for her. She kept listening to the music until the captain whistled and their training began. Ginny flew to grab the quaffle and as fast as she could she turned a half circle aiming to the goalpost.

Harry had left the Auror training and he was sad, was it her fault? Had she hurt him when they saw each other for the last time three months ago and he told her they couldn’t be together? He had hurt her too, she cried herself to sleep that night and she cried harder when she realised that she could do nothing about it, she couldn’t make anything because he was gay and Ginny was a girl. And she never felt so powerless as at that moment.

She cursed him that night. She cursed him for not telling her sooner, for kissing her, and kissing Cho, and dating her and making her believe that they had a future now that Voldemort was dead. She screamed at him for keeping it a secret, for letting her fall in love with him all over again only to break her heart, as if it hadn’t been enough him breaking up with her during the sixth year with all the Horcrux hunting, he had a reasonable reason back then. He had one now too, if she was gay she’d suppose that she wouldn’t like to date a boy, but still… Why even bother on swooning her again after the war? Why not just... Let it be?

She was aware that what she was feeling was an irrational hurt, it wasn’t Harry’s fault too, he had the right to discover himself and find out what he liked and what he did not. She, just like Harry, also had her fair share of experiments when discovering about her romantic interests. But it still hurt and right now Ginny knew she couldn’t look at him again and truly leave behind her hurt feelings, apologize for her harsh words and just hug him. She was no liar, she wouldn’t do that just to make everything better, she’d do it honestly because Harry deserved that. She was feeling selfish, hurt and even more hurt and angry _at herself_ for not being capable of accepting Harry for what he was because her damn feelings kept getting in the way.

She did a spin flying upside down dodging from a bludger aiming at her head and just after turning back she threw the quaffle through a goalpost scoring ten points.

She was hurt, confused and angry with the whole mess but that would _never_ mean she wanted Harry to suffer. No, Harry was one of the people she most wanted to see happiness filling their life’s, Harry deserved the world. She _loved_ him, and the meaning of love was to let it go too, she just had to explain that part to her stupid heart. She wasn’t ready to face him back yet, she needed to curl up to lick her own wounds before she went back to whatever leftover of a friendship they had now. Thinking about it made her heart clench because she knew that Harry would have all the right to be mad at her, hurt at what she said and if he cursed her back telling he never wanted to see her face again, she knew he was on his right to do so and she’d have to respect that. The merest idea of losing Harry’s friendship for good made her palms sweat and her heart jump to her throat.

She wanted him to be happy, and even if it was with another girl she’d want that. If he was gay or not it didn’t matter, but it didn’t lessen the fact that she required time, time that she’d use to focus solely on herself, on her team and in building up her heart again.

Throwing the Quaffle to Wilda Griffiths she watched as she scored another point. Still worried about Harry’s wellbeing, Ginny missed the bludger that hit the handle of her broom and sent her spiralling out of control to the ground.

 

‘Wait... What?’ Ron scratched his eyes looking at his wife and his sister.  Ginny rolled her eyes sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace.

‘All these years and you’re still retarded after waking up, come on Ron, is already ten! Wake up' He scratched his stubble looking at Ginny screaming and sat at her side. He was truly confused with his sister right now. He thought the downfall between her and Harry was huge since both of them never mentioned anything of what happened, they just parted ways and never talked about it. Ginny was a very good-hearted person but once someone hurt her, there was no turning back. Yet, here she was, back from Ireland after two years stating she’d stretch her vacations and help them in... What?

‘I firecalled Ginny at the burrow asking if Molly had some pepperup for Harry because he was really awful this morning when I went to fetch him for the tribute’ Ron nodded staring at his wife.

‘And how did polyjuice got in the middle of this?’ Ginny rolled her eyes.

'Harry doesn’t need pepperup, he needs help ok? So, Ginny and I came up with this plan, I went back to his place to fetch some of his clothes' She stated, placing some clothes on Ron’s lap with a pair of rounded glasses and a tuft of brown hair on top of it. ‘And, I may or may not have found a way to get access to the Polyjuice that the Aurors uses for ministry missions’ Hermione stated and looked at Ginny for backup and she hummed in confirmation. ‘And, I... I went over there after trying and failing to wake up Harry because... You know, I forgot some papers at my desk that is too important to be left there’ Hermione said in a calm voice while pulling from her handbag a bunch of papers and throwing it at the coffee table, the small bottle of polyjuice potion that was hidden in the middle of it, she held carefully.

‘So, Ginny takes the potion, pretends she’s Harry for the journal, say a few words over how good the end of the war was and pose for pictures?’ Both women nodded and Ron sat in silence thoughtfully. ‘Ok, we’ve done that a few times already, nothing new.’ He said after a few seconds and Hermione sighed relieved he was on board with their plan.

‘Maybe Hermione should talk. We can say something like Harry’s throat is sore today.’ Ginny suggested suddenly cautious of saying something that would screw it up. Ron pursed his lips shaking his head in denial.

'I don’t think so, Ginny… If we’re doing this, Harry has to be _perfect_. You listening? If the Prophet gets suspicious of anything they’d be breathing down Harry’s neck for a whole year and they’ll find out he’s not okay and just make a bigger mess. It will be fifth year all over again.’ Ron said looking deep in her eyes, Ginny nodded getting the message and running her fingers through her hair. She’d have to do it right because Harry couldn’t afford much right now. Ron frowned stretching his hand and touching with care her forehead next to her left eyebrow. ‘What’s this?’ she touched it too.

‘During training a bludger hit my broom breaking it and I lost control, I crashed really hard on the ground and blacked out. I woke up like, three hours later, at least, with the team congratulating me for my first scar as a real player.’ Hermione looked at her wide-eyed with her mouth slightly open. Ron smiled muttering 'cool' and Ginny smiled back. ‘Its been at least a year and a half though, how drunk you were at Christmas? I told it to Bill’ Hermione scoffed.

'He was drunk enough at our wedding that he can’t remember it, imagine Christmases' Ginny slapped her brother on the head.

‘What was that for?’ Ron sounded offended.

'For being stupid. Now, you have to marry Hermione again, and I’ll have an excuse to eat wedding cake until my dress burst open' The ginger girl got up picking up Harry’s clothes from Ron’s hands and left toward the bathroom.

'But we married only eight months ago!’ Ron screamed.

'Don't care! I want wedding cake!’ she screamed back from the bathroom and Ron smiled.

'Why she’s back? I mean... Worried about Harry?’ Hermione whispered sitting on the place the girl had been just now. Ron sighed picking her hand.

‘She’s always been worried, she never asked for him explicitly on her letters but she’d always write something like “Hey! I’m great, hope Harry’s fine too”’ Ron whispered back fidgeting with her wedding band.

‘But still... Is weird. I thought they left in bad terms’ She frowned.

'Yeah me too. But Ginny is a good person and you know it, Mione, she’s my sister. She’d help Harry anytime' Hermione frowned harder.

'If Harry was a jerk to her, no. She wouldn’t.’ He let go of her hand staring at her angrily.

'Are you saying that my sister was the bitch of this mess?’ She looked incredulous at her husband’s furious expression.

'Don't be daft, I'm trying to say that maybe there wasn’t any jerk on the story to begin with.’ Ron frowned thinking over it and grabbing her hand again his protective anger dissolving.

'Then why would they break up and she’d leave so hurt?’ Hermione shrugged biting her lips, just looking at her Ron knew that she had a guess but she wouldn’t say it out loud without being sure either. He also knew that whatever it was, Ginny had the answer but knowing his own sister as he did, he was certain that the girl would _never_ tell anyone without Harry also saying she could.

 

His morning was much calmer than he expected, he expected Granger to barge in his shop demanding things, he expected Merula to annoy him endlessly making the stupidest innuendos of always, hell… He prepared his mind for a day of torture but then eight came and passed, so did nine and by eleven o’clock he was starting to let his walls down and relax while carefully watching the monthly batch of Skele-gro to St. Mungus simmering while also powdering the root of asphodel to his new experiment with Merula.

However, he knew it was to expect too much to have a day in peaceful bliss while housing Harry Potter at his rooms. He rolled his eyes when he heard a lot of thumping as if someone was falling down instead of walk down his stairs, a crack on the floorboard and five seconds later Potter was stuck at the threshold of his lab not knowing if he should barge in or fall face down. Severus arched one eyebrow looking judgingly at the boy.

‘Can’t sleep anymore’ His breath looked ragged, there was a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead and if it was possible his hair looked more of a mess than usual. Severus hummed biting his tongue and stopping himself from making a snarky remark and just nodded looking back at his almost perfect powdered roots. Oh hell, the boy would ruin it. He bit the inside of his cheeks and stepped aside.

‘Then make yourself useful and grind those for me’ He motioned vaguely to his workstation, his voice tone wasn’t nice but his words were very far from rude. The boy should know that if he was allowing him anywhere near his workstation he was either deranged, dying or already turning inside his grave. He _couldn’t_ believe he offered the roots for the boy, what was he thinking? He was delusional, Potter in his work station, not even Snyde in two years of work touched his things. Not to speak the fact that he would _never_ hear the end of it if the brat ruined the experiment because of poorly grind ingredients, Merula would make his life a living hell. Potter went dragging his feet and picked the bowl with trembling fingers, Severus wanted to curse the kid out, how come he _offered_ the boy to work with him? He stepped further giving room to Potter, still having trouble to process what was happening

They worked for a long time in silence. It wasn’t _so_ dreadful, Severus admitted silently, although he did felt the desire to breathe down on the boy’s neck, barking orders and criticizing every single thing he did, he refrained himself just looking at his motions with the corner of his eyes and saying nothing. Merula didn’t step in his lab and he had a small suspicion it was because she’d seen Potter working there with him. It was already noon and she always came around eleven and a half to ask if he’d made any progress. He pursed his lips bottling the skele-gro’s and placing it on a box written St. Mungus’s Hospital. He scribbled down on his notes how many bottles they’d requested and marked it done.

Severus finally lifted his head to look at Potter, he was grasping the table so hard his knuckles were white, and he looked like he was having trouble to breathe. For a second Severus wondered what he should do.

‘Are you alright Potter?’ His breathing just got shallower, he bowed his head and Severus caught a glimpse of a tear running down his cheek. ‘Potter. Can you count with me? Let’s go upstairs we’ll count the steps you take. Give me your hand’ Severus heard a hiccup and he wondered if he was doing something wrong. Oh hell, and he thought he had enough of this with his Slytherins panicking in his office because of N.E.W.T.s. If helping a Slytherin felt like being in hell, he wondered how it would feel to help a Gryffindor of all people, he wanted to growl and hex something, _anything_.

Severus extended his hand touching lightly the boy’s wrist, he looked lost on his own inner world and Severus had seen enough of panic attacks to at least identify one. Potter moved, his right hand clasped around his wrist in an iron grip, he was still breathing shallow and desperately. Severus nudged his shoulder making the boy take one step towards the exit and making his voice as soft as possible he counted one.

It took thirty-three steps to reach his kitchen and pull a chair for the brat. By the time he was sat, he had calmed down a little but not nearly enough. Severus wasn’t a man of soft words and whisper sweet nothings of “everything’s gonna be fine”. He never learned how to do that, he knew however how to offer practical solutions, like make the boy count numbers and focus on other things, different than his own panic. He frowned, wondering what drove the boy to a panic attack, he’d said nothing, nothing happened, he wasn’t rude to him. Basically, he panicked over nothing. Throwing away the cold tea from the morning and filling the kettle to boil a new one he looked over his shoulder, he was trying hard to control his breathing and was still crying.

‘What day is it?’ Harry took a deep breath, his eyes were glazed looking lost at the table, he was trembling more than when Severus was holding his hand. He ignored that small fact and looked at the window, the cold, cloudy and depressive English weather not being very attractive to look at either.

‘T-Thursday’ Severus turned around sitting in front of the boy.                      

‘Take deep, slow breaths Potter’ He did listen to him. ‘Do you like to read?’

‘N-Not really, sir’ Severus nodded. Well, that vastly narrowed his conversational topics but he already knew about that, he just didn’t know how to make small talk.

‘What’s your favourite place to be?’ Maybe he could go down that line, the boy seemed to be calming down.

‘A broom. I think. I like flying. I…’

‘Good’ Severus cut him because he could see Potter getting panicky again. He wondered why. ‘why do you like it?’ He got up calmly to not startle the brat and grabbed the kettle pouring on a cup of lavender tea and handing it to Potter, turning his back to the table and looking at his cupboard trying to decide what to cook for lunch.

‘I… I’m free when I fly, I can be just me there, just Harry. Not… not the hero or-or a prophecy or my dad you know?’ Severus stopped on his tracks, definitely a new perspective was placed over his thoughts about the brat.

‘Are you hungry?’ Potter took a sip of the tea, still shaking but definitely calmer, his breathing normalized after he started talking about flying, it almost broke a smile on Severus’s face.

‘No, I. I’m fine. Should I go home?’ He wiped his cheeks on the sleeve of his pullover.

‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you for a while. You’ll stay here so I’ll take you to your place for you to pick up a few clothes.’ Severus closed the cupboard ‘Snyde is out for lunch now, I’ll just leave her a note, we should eat outside. I’m not in the mood for cooking. Is there any restaurant you favour? A muggle one?’ Severus added, there was no point on being seen in wizarding Britain alongside Potter, it would drive the Prophet insane and Granger made a whole statement on why they must avoid the media’s attention. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to draw that kind of attention to himself.

‘Uh… not really, but there’s plenty of restaurants nearby my apartment’ Severus nodded saying nothing.

‘Go wash your face and we apparate there. I’ll be right back’ He left Potter in the kitchen and headed to his apothecary writing down a note on the countertop and leaving it to Snyde. Potter joined him by the time he finished his writing. Severus looked over his shoulder, the brat was looking a little bit better, however, not much.

The man pursed his lips frowning at the boy’s hair, it looked like it had its own will. Without much thought, he lifted his hand trying to flatten that mop excuse of a hair, he stopped when the boy blushed and suddenly he hated himself all over again for his own stupidity, petting Potter wouldn’t do any good. Saying nothing, he extended his arm apparating to a discreet corner nearby Harry’s apartment.

He imagined that a little bit of fresh air would do well for the both of them but Potter made his point grasping him hard and pulling him by the arm to the safety of his apartment. He handled Severus a bunch of flyers from different restaurants to order food. Severus rolled his eyes dismissing it with his hand and allowing the boy to order anything he wanted while also keeping an eye on him. With how sneaky the boy had been, taking alcohol and pills as soon as he turned his back to him, he was certain that Potter had a hidden stack of those in his apartment that Severus wasn’t aware of. He probably was just waiting until he blinked, to drug himself to sleep. The boy hanged up the Muggle phone and sat on the couch silently watching Severus shifting his weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep.

'Uh... You can sit you know. Or... Dunno, watch TV?’ Severus just arched an eyebrow. ‘Were you always that awkward?’ He bit his tongue feeling like hexing Potter for all the years the boy drove him mad.

‘I’m not awkward Potter. I just don’t feel any type of desire as little as it can be of befriending you. I’m fulfilling a life-debt nothing more than that' The boy just nodded as if he were listening from far away.

'Right... I don’t expect more from you, you never liked me anyway, not after... Just... Just sit or whatever, just because you’re being forced to do this it doesn’t mean you can’t make yourself comfortable. I have a spare bedroom too if you want so much to keep an eye on me you can sleep there since your apartment is small and, whatever...’ He trailed off after Severus face got more irritated by the second.

Snape was having a difficult time to deal with his mood swings too, when they were chopping ingredients or when he was trying to calm down the boy, he was almost fine by his presence. But, since they left the apothecary Severus’ stomach was churning and he wanted nothing but to scream at Potter’s face to disappear and let him live the rest of his miserable life without having the golden-hero attached to his hip. Severus sighed and sat on the stool close to the plant he nourished the previous day.

Potter turned the TV on, some food channel teaching how to cook a roast chicken with rosemary and lemons was playing. Potter had his back turned to him, his eyes on the TV, his pullover was slopped down on one shoulder, showing more than it should of his trapezium. His hair was a mess at the top but at his nape it resumed into one single curl longer than the others that enrolled in itself right at the base of his nape, almost inviting fingers to curl on it over and over again or to be brushed aside and kissed underneath, over soft, sensitive skin. Severus blinked looking at the roast chicken being pulled from the oven, his mouth was watering. He was just hungry, he told himself while gulping ignoring the involuntary turn his eyes took, for a frame of a second, to Potter’s nape and also ignoring his fingers curling at the leaves of the plant beside him.

The food arrived half an hour later and Severus couldn’t believe that from all the options Potter had, he ordered Pizza. He wanted to get angry and start a whole argument about healthy eating habits but the boy was on his second slice and Severus hadn’t seen him eating like that since now so he kept his mouth shut. The pizza wasn’t even half bad anyway and there was a Muggle drink that Severus was sure that was evil to his stomach but made a good complement to the food.

‘I think this does more harm than poison' he took another gulp looking at the red can, Potter laughed, his eyes were shining and he looked way better than he was in the morning.

'Yeah, probably. If the amount of sugar they put in it is indicative of poisoning. But, fun-fact is that originally, coke was invented to be a medicine. From addiction to stomach-ache, that it’s how versatile it was' Severus snorted looking at the can on his hand. ‘Only later it was considered bullshit and it started being sold as just a drink, which by the way is addictive long-term.’

'They invented an addictive drink to cure addiction?’ They both smiled.

‘Yeah... It’s good though. I mean, not healthy... but, still most addictive things make us feel good I suppose' Potter shrugged taking another gulp. Severus stared at him saying nothing.

'How much sugar does it have?’ It was Potter’s turn to snort.

‘You don’t want to know' He finished his sentence in a strangled voice muffling a burp. He laughed. ‘I guess that’s the downside, it makes you burp for half an hour. If I was with Gryffindor’s we’d probably have a burp competition but Slytherin’s would just find it stupid I think' He shrugged it off taking another bite on his slice of pizza.

‘Oh please don’t let me stop you. Feel free to act your stupid Gryffindor-self however you desire. I can sit here judging you or making sarcastic comments' Severus was positively certain that the lights in the living room were playing tricks because he couldn’t remember ever seeing eyes that green.

‘I’ll pass the humiliation. You’re very good with sarcasm... And... Helping, you’re very good at helping too, I’d probably be in a self-induced coma right now if it wasn’t for you' Severus wasn’t comfortable with compliments, he never was, but those from Potter made him a thousand times more uncomfortable than any others.

'Thank your friends, not me.’ He placed the red can over the coffee table next to the pizza box.

‘I’ll do it. But right now I’m thanking you' His eyes were staring so deep into his that Severus felt difficulty in breathing for a second or two. He felt like cursing the boy for being like that. No one was supposed to look that deeply into his eyes, almost as if it was staring at his soul, he wondered if it had something to do with green eyes because Lily was the only other person who could do such a thing. As if it was a snap of fingers, the memory of Lily woke him of whatever delusion was hitting his thoughts.

‘Don’t thank me yet Potter, you’ll hate me long before I’m done with you and paid this debt.’

‘Is it for the debt? _Only_ for the debt, sir?’ Potter shifted at the seat next to his, his whole body now turned to him.

‘What else would it be? The know-it-all charged it, I can’t refuse. Don’t feed any delusional thought that I’m doing it out of goodness' Potter looked down at his hands.

‘I wouldn’t dream of thinking that, sir. I’m just curious, you could leave me here and just come to watch me from time to time. You could drop a potion or two. I’m just thinking, you’re a better person than people think you are and that you give yourself credit to’ He yawned at the last sentence stretching his arms over his head, his pullover lifted an inch showing naked skin that Snape didn’t want to see. He looked at the coffee table instead, not daring stare at Potter again.

'I don’t do anything by halves Potter. You know it' The boy placed his elbow on the back of the couch. Leaning his head on his hand.

'I'm sorry' Severus looked at his lap frowning.

‘I don’t see for what precisely you are apologizing.’ Potter scoffed.

‘Me either, I was really, really stupid. I guess I’m apologizing for everything. You know... After the w...’

'Don't' Severus snapped turning to Potter’s face, anger like flares on his eyes, he stared for a single second after turning his look to the coffee table, avoiding Potter’s eyes at any cost.

‘You can hate me, I hate myself too right now, I... I’m sorry Hermione made you do this, I know you didn’t want to ever see me again because of what I did after the Wizengamot trials, I know I owe you an apology for a very long time I...’ Severus got up from the couch picking the pizza box, his fingertips so tight around it that it was deforming the cardboard. He wanted to leave but once again, he cursed his duty senses.

‘I said don’t Potter, what’s done is done' He left to the kitchen opening the almost empty fridge and throwing the box there and closing the door with more force than it deserved, Potter followed after his trail.

‘Severus I'

'SHUT UP!’ He turned around staring at deep green eyes. ‘Do NOT call me by my first name, Do NOT apologize, there is NOTHING to apologize for. You made a choice Potter, I was reckless. We were both reckless and believe me, I NEVER expected anything out of you as if I’d ever expect something. There’s nothing left to say, there’s nothing that can fix the past and if there was I’d done it very, very long ago starting with Lily!’ His eyes were filled with unshed tears and Severus could have felt bad for the boy but his anger took the best of him.

'I'M SORRY I WAS AN ASSHOLE ALRIGHT?! I...’

'Spare me, I'm hardly an innocent in all this mess, don’t act as if I was' The first tear fell and just like a broken dam it didn’t stop.

‘If I could get back, I’d do it differently. I’d...’

‘YOU CAN’T POTTER, every person in the world wish to go back in time and change something they did wrong, knowing you are just one of those it makes nothing better, apologies are worth nothing to me! So, for the last time. DON’T. APOLOGIZE.’ Potter was hiccupping now and Severus rolled his eyes. ‘Spare me this drama, I’ve dealt with worse sins in my past. You don’t even make the top ten' He wiped his eyes looking at Severus, tears still falling.  Severus wanted to groan and leave to a cave to positively live as a bat for eternity just to be spared from the melodramatic scenario.

'Was that you trying to make me feel better? Saying I’m not the top ten worst things that ever happened to you?’ He sniffed cleaning his nose at the sleeve of his pullover.

‘Did I say top ten? Let’s not act so kindly then. I take that back, let’s make it top three. You can’t be worse than The Dark Lord, teaching at Hogwarts and my family' He groaned when the boy smiled at him.

'Can I hug you?’ Severus just stared, his stomach turning and his ego begging to offend the boy in front of him, the darkest, stingy side of himself felt like hurting Potter, it felt like grasp his neck and just squeeze until his eyes lost that hopeful glow.

He couldn’t start to describe how divided his mind and soul were about Potter. Half of him hated him with such raw power that he sometimes, felt he would lose control over himself and just murder him for every single shred of pain the boy ever caused him. However, another part, a softer one, was obsessed with the boy, with his wellbeing, craving for his smile, craving for that glow in his eyes. He was painfully lusting for that happy demeanour of his stupidity and joy, he was longing for all of his happiness, it hurt seeing him depressed like that and it hurt wanting to hurt the boy for the sake of retaliation.

Severus was thrown in the middle of polar opposite feelings as a slingshot coming and going from two extremes in complete chaos of not knowing how to feel or what to do. He desperately wanted to hate him but he couldn’t do it fully, he’d never manage it completely, no matter how much pain Potter caused him. However, he knew he could desperately and hopelessly love him, because he already did that once, two years and a half ago and he would not allow it to happen again, once was enough for him, he could only pull off so many heartbreaks.

Potter hugged him, Severus ignored the smell of his hair that seemed to impregnate his memories up to these days. With half of him refusing to hug him back, he listened to the silliest voice, because apparently, the Gryffindor could turn him stupid. He wrapped his arms around the brat pressing his crooked nose on that god-awful hair that Snape never forgot the smell of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ●The next chapter will be up until 4th July at max!  
> ●Leave reviews and Kudos, please, it keeps me going.  
> ● https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines  
> These are the suicide crisis lines around the world. If you are in a bad place, save the numbers from your country and never hesitate to call. Seek help, there's always a way out from what you're feeling and there will always be people available to help you. You are loved, things do get better.


	3. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long to update. In fact, the chapter was ready for a while but my beta got some problems while editing and that's why it took so long.  
> Anyway, I'm really sorry for missing the deadline and I'd really like to thank my beta for making my story more awesome.  
> Thank you SarahSezLove.

 

The coffee shop was crowded. It was a cosy place to be, given the harsh winds that were gracing the outside streets. Severus wasn’t happy; he wanted nothing to do with Potter, and he had no qualms of ever thanking the boy for defending him in front of the Wizengamot. He didn’t expect to survive, and he always calculated that if he ever managed to come out alive from this, he’d be thrown in Azkaban to rot alongside the first lot of Death Eaters. Today, after the trial, walking as a free man, he felt alive, a feeling he hadn’t had for a very long time. Of course, he could expect Potter of all people to crush whatever little happiness he had. His endless rambling - asking for a coffee to “catch up” - convinced him, by the fifth request, that it would be better do that sooner so it could end quickly. Severus fucking hated coffee.

“I just wanted to thank you, Sir. Everything you did in the war... it was, you were very brave, and I’m sorry for... all of our past misunderstandings and hope we can start again?”

He sounded a little bit desperate, as if yearning some sort of approval, and that piqued his curiosity. Severus just nodded, acknowledging the brat’s words but never agreeing with the whole starting over again thing. He would loathe Potter forever.

“I... hope they treated you well while you were in Azkaban waiting for the trials. I wanted to see you, or make them speed it up to get you out earlier, but the Ministry wouldn’t have any of it.” The boy drank a sip of his cappuccino, almost as if he was physically trying to shut himself up. Severus wanted to hex him and leave. He also hated Gryffindors.

“Indeed, Potter. I felt like a special guest in a fancy hotel.” He leaned back on his chair. “They even made special allowances, such as permitting me to bathe for the first time in two months in order that I at least appear presentable at today’s trial.” Potter visibly winced.

“Things are still messed up, but Kingsley is finishing dealing with the reassembling of the Wizengamot and, once that’s done with, they’re moving to Azkaban. Dementors can’t be trusted there -  that was pretty obvious after Voldemort – so they’ll be changing it. No prisoner deserves such subhuman treatment.” Severus sighed, looking at the street outside.

“I won’t say I’m glad that the next prisoners will be treated better than I was. I’m just relieved that I can live my own life without nuisances from now on.” Potter blinked at him, his mouth agape.

“Oh, um... Am I a nuisance, sir?” Severus sneered.

“Obviously. I thought you had that figured out years ago.”

The brat dared to smile, staring into his mug. Severus took a sip of his black coffee, trying not to grimace. Why in hell the brat thought it was a good idea to have coffee to catch up, he had no idea. He just wanted to throw hexes at the boy and flee from that godawful place, never to return.

“Uh, is the coffee okay? I love this place; found it with Hermione and Ron last month. We were working around the clock helping Kingsley with the Ministry stuff, Auror training and all. We sort of became addicted after sleeping only four hours every day. Hermione is at Hogwarts now. She wanted to do the seventh year and take her NEWTs. Ron and I are starting Auror training.” Severus tapped his fingers on the table-top whilst listening.  Sweet Merlin. If only the boy had a mute button, he’d have used it the moment he opened his mouth to take a breath. However, he supposed that answered some of his questions as to why Potter thought this dreadful place was a good idea.

“The coffee is… passable.” Passable through hell, to be poured as wicked punishment down the throats of anguished souls, judging by the vile taste. The bright smile Potter gave him never allowed Severus to voice his real thoughts.

“Can I ask you some questions? About... about mum?” Severus placed his elbow on the table, his long pale fingers pulling a strand of black hair away from his face. He used the same hand to signal his assent for Potter to proceed with whatever he wanted to ask. He supposed he owed something to the brat for releasing him from that wicked prison.

“Was she...” Potter took a deep, trembling breath. Severus just wanted him to be over with it so he could close this part of his life like a book reaching its end, ready to be tucked away into a hidden corner of some dusty shelf inside his mind. “Slughorn told me once that she was really good at potions,” Upon hearing this, Severus felt the urge to groan and hit his head upon the table repeatedly. He’d expected questions, not an in-depth conversation about Lily. He loved and cherished her memory, but she was hardly something he’d be willing to discuss in detail. There were far too many skeletons in that closet. He nodded anyway, confirming what the boy said.

“And you’re also good at it, no, you’re great actually. What else did you have in common?” He hitched his breath. What kind of question was that?

“Lily... we were both very good at finding James stupid; before, of course, she fell in love with him. We do not share that part, thank Merlin.” Potter smiled, relaxing his shoulders as if relieving some tension he was holding. Severus turned away, refusing to recognise that the boy’s smile had nothing to do with James, nor Lily, but was something entirely different, and his own. He also ignored that it was a rather dashing smile. “She also had a talent for charms and was as intelligent as your Miss Granger, only less annoying. But I expect you to know all of this, Potter.”

“Not from someone who grew up with her, Sir.” Severus frowned.

“But Petunia...”

“Petunia Dursley was a petty, vindictive woman who made her point very clear whilst raising me. She took great joy in letting me believe I was the freak son of a good-for-nothing father and freak mother, someone who… Potter cut himself off mid-sentence, but what he’d already said was enough to anger Severus, too.

“She did what? All these years, and she still envies Lily? Has she mistreated you, too?” His fingers were clenched tight around his cup of coffee. Potter snorted.

“Mistreat being the understatement of the year? I’d say yes, but…” He stopped, seeming to gather his thoughts. and gave a shrug. “Not like I’d ever come back to check on them, anyway. I’m glad it’s all over with, and I’m finally free from that awful place. I’ll never have to step foot inside that house again. She did once say something about not only me losing mum but her losing her sister, too. Bullshit!. She always talked ill of my parents. Why she’d say something like that the last time I saw her, I don’t know. Or care. It changes nothing. If she expected some kind of compassion, she won’t be getting it from me.” Severus just looked at Potter, allowing him to ramble and vent, whilst also providing him unknown information. His body tensed as he wondered, just for a fleeting moment, the extent of what the brat had suffered at Petunia’s hand.

“She had always been jealous of Lily. I don’t think I helped their relationship, but I know I helped Lily in understanding what she was, and that makes me glad.” That brought a  small smile to Harry’s face.

“Yeah. How can I miss someone I never knew so much?” Snape failed to remember a time he’d seen such melancholy on Potter’s face. He looked lost and broken, and the obvious sincerity made him question whether the boy had changed or if it was he, himself, who had somehow softened now that everything was over. Potter had never been this honest; never this open and unguarded with him. Or had he been just too blind to see it all this time?

“You do know her. You know she loved you. Half of you is Lily’s.” He swallowed before he could say anything more. Saying it out loud only made it real and, for the first time looking at Potter, he realised he didn’t see a second James, even if, at times, his actions and mannerisms were very akin to his father’s. For the first time, he saw nothing but a young man trying to be nothing but his own person.

“You loved her, right? Mum? You did all of it for her.”

“All I’ve done was in her memory, to atone for my sins. I did it for my own sanity. I did it to preserve her memory and to at least try, not that I’d ever manage, to be the person she thought I was capable of being.” He took the last sip of his coffee, glad that dreadful thing was over, and looked out at the street again, watching the wind tossing leaves and shaking the coats of passers-by.

“But you loved her?”

“What does it matter to you if I did or not Potter?” He gritted his teeth. But then, looking into those familiar green eyes, half his anger dissipated. “I... She was the only good friend I ever had in my childhood and teenage years. Lily held a very special place in my heart and always will. It wasn’t romantic love, Potter, for there are many ways you can love someone.”

“But then...” Potter paused, frowning and shaking his head. “why were you so mad that she started dating my dad?” Severus snorted inelegantly.

“I wasn’t mad, Potter, I was gutted; because I screwed up hugely; because I made a series of awful choices, one after the other, and pushed her away from me. And James, the big asshole, changed and started being a better person than I’d hoped to be. He turned out to be the person Lily thought I was capable of being. She always did have high hopes for me. Delusional, that’s what your mother was.” Severus paused, drumming his fingers over the table-top. “Lily...she got involved with my enemy, an enemy whom I knew was turning out to be better than I was, following a brighter path than I ever could. He wasn’t...rotten, as I was.” Potter looked confused and more exasperated by the second.

“If you thought so little of yourself why not just...back off, just...be better and, and, I  dunno...apologise.” Severus laughed.

“I was beyond saving, however, unless you’ve lost your memory, Potter, I tried to apologise, more than once. Your mother denied me at every turn.” Potter sighed loudly.

“I don’t get it. She denied your apologies because you were on your way to becoming a Death Eater. If you knew it was such a bad thing to be, why not try changing and being...good?” Severus cocked his head, amused at the golden hero’s innocence.

“Potter, is goodness something you are taught? Is kindness something you are born with? Is it something you learn from a loving home during your first years of life? What is being good? What does it mean? Does it mean doing what’s right? Right for you? Right for the majority? Does it mean making personal sacrifices in order to improve the lives of others? Or should you be selfish and worry about your own wellbeing?” Potter frowned, obviously not following Severus’ point. How surprising.

“What I’m trying to explain, and what you don’t seem to be able to grasp, is that being good is a relative term. It is subjective, dependent upon the individual. For example, you may think I’m good, that I’m deemed redeemable, as you said yourself in your rather messy defence of me today, which, against all odds, somehow worked. But to many others, I’m nothing but the clever, self-preserving bastard who tricked Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived.”

Potter opened his mouth ready to argue, closing it with an almost audible snap as Severus lifted his hand in a stop motion. “What I’m telling you is that I knew the path I was choosing. I knew I’d lost Lily’s affection the day I called her mudblood, and I knew what Avery and Mulciber did, but the dark path called to me, and I wanted to listen.” He paused collecting his thoughts again.

“The dark arts fascinated me in a way I can’t begin to describe. It promised all the knowledge the light couldn’t offer, better days to live for. I wasn’t hard to convince, not when it seemed all I had to do was reach out and take it; the power, the knowledge, all my ambitions within my reach. Everyone was talking about how revolutionary the Dark Lord was. His immense power spoke for him, and I wonder, even to this day, where the Wizarding world would be now, if not for a baby with a lightning bolt on his forehead.” He paused again and Potter gave a weak smile. “I wasn’t hard to convince, not when I had only one home to return to on vacations, a home with an abusive drunk father who’d beat us for breathing wrong, or just because he remembered we had magic. Not when I’d come home to a mother who hated her son for having magic, because her husband would love her more if he was normal. It’s no excuse for my sins, of course.” He paused, inhaling deeply. Potter didn’t know that part, having never seen any of Snape’s childhood memories. He didn’t know why he’d told them to the brat, not looking for pity or condescension.

“I realised my mistakes too late. Potter. Goodness is nothing but a perspective and even sometimes, when hurting someone as I did to Lily, it’s very easy to lose yourself in your own arguments and beliefs. It’s very easy to think that what you are doing is part of a greater scheme towards a better path.” He paused, looking into unblinking deep green eyes. “You start to think that somewhere along the way, the weak will fall and wither and, if that’s the price for a revolution and a better life for all those around you, so be it. You can’t stop to save everyone in a war. You have to think of the bigger picture, and every war has two sides. A _lways_ Potter, _always,_ both sides think they’re doing what’s right.” Harry listened, his mouth agape, looking lost at Severus’ words.

“But you said you knew dad was following a brighter path, that he was becoming better than you. So how can...how could that not being convincing enough for you?”

“It wasn’t the actions Potter. Yes, indeed, he was following a seemingly brighter path, surrounded by cheering friends, dating, a shining future career on his horizon. I was pursuing my own ambitions, however. I was pursuing the knowledge I was thirsty for, embracing a cause I was convinced was right. And in war, it’s not the attitude that matters, Potter, it’s the idea behind it, because ideas have their own will. If you have the idea that you’re doing something for the right reasons, for a just cause, it doesn’t matter what attitudes you take with you. It doesn’t matter who you’ll hurt. What matters is the result you’ll achieve, justifying the pain you might cause. The Dark Lord’s secret wasn’t his power, it was his persuasion. In making his followers believe wholeheartedly in his ideals, it didn’t matter the actions he requested, they were willing to do any dirty work needed because, in any war, the means justify the ends.” Harry sighed, staring at the cappuccino warming his hands.

“I get it, I…it’s easier to turn dark than to do what’s right for the right reasons.” Severus shook his head.

“No, Potter. Listen to what I said. Right or wrong, good or bad, is nothing but a perspective. To me at the time, yes, I was doing bad things in turning to dark arts, creating dark, dangerous spells, but I had all the right reasons, all the right justifications. Things aren’t so simple or black and white to be easily defined as right and wrong. You have both sides of a coin, with different views, each one believing theirs is the right one, each believing things should be the way they see it, that they have more power and knowledge over truth, that they know better than the other side. That’s how a war begins.” Potter frowned.

“To me, what you did was wrong, there’s no arguing over it. You were a Death Eater and I hold you responsible for my parents’ death.” Severus nodded, feeling gutted for his words. His mistakes were his alone, and he could feel anger towards the boy. Mostly, however, he knew he should win his own past.

“Yes Potter, feel free to hate me, just like many others. I’m well aware of all of my mistakes. Thinking I was doing what’s right does not excuse a single one of them, as I said earlier. However, I have spent the last seventeen years trying to atone for my sins, bending to the wills of Dumbledore and Riddle, trying to clear the path for you to succeed. To me, you are no hero. You just had the right people at your side and an impressive amount of pure dumb luck.” Potter looked right at him, as if staring into his very soul and, surprisingly to Severus, gave him a small smile.

“So I guess blaming you is just my own perspective, then. If things had gone differently, if I’d turned to Voldemort’s side for some reason, you’d be a faithful servant to me right now, a devoted follower, doing what’s right whilst spying on Dumbledore and helping to bring the Order down” Severus’ lips twitched in appreciation at Potter’s growing understanding. “It’s not really any different from Malfoy, right? I mean, he grew up in a shitty prejudiced home. His parents were faithful to Voldemort, and they expected the same of him since the first day he took a breath. If he had grown up in a different household, he would never have turned to Voldemort’s side, I’m sure.”

“Take whatever conclusions you want from what I’ve told you, Potter. I didn’t say it to excuse anyone’s actions, much less my own. Seeing it from a relative point of view matters when you think of both sides in a war, but it doesn’t excuse killing, torture or genocide. The Dark Lord pursued power and immortality. He wasn’t thinking of a greater good. That was nothing besides his method of manipulating his followers. He did nothing but cause pain and fear. That’s why I’m not redeemable, Potter. I was fighting for an idea with the wrong leader, the wrong cause, and the wrong methods. My intentions matter little compared to all of that.” Potter shook his head in disagreement.

“I guess I got something from my mother, then. I’m as delusional as she was, because I believe you’re better than you give yourself credit for. But unlike her, I don’t hope you can be a better person, I think you already managed that. I think you are good, and that’s enough for me, You’re the one who needs to see it.” Severus scoffed, dismissing the brat’s words. “It still doesn’t mean I like you. You’re a man of cruel words, rough around the edges, and very hard to swallow, but even with the mean exterior, I think you’re softer inside than you want anyone to know.” Severus rolled his eyes, seriously wondering whether it would be better to be dead, rather than to have this conversation.

“I’m not good, Potter. You are deluded.” The boy turned his head to the side, a playful glimmer in his eyes, his smile disconcerting Severus. He could sense the force of his words disconcerting the potions master, tapping at the walls the man maintained around himself.

“I think that goodness is a matter of perspective, sir. Two sides of a coin, and from where I sit,” he smiled a little wider, eyes shining like emeralds as he looked so deeply into dark eyes that had forgotten how to blink, “yes, you are good.” Harry’s tone could not have been more serious, the boy so obviously meant what he was saying. And Severus felt those hard fought for walls begin to crumble; crumble forever.

“You just have to work a little bit more to make me like you, so that means we’ll be having tea at your place tomorrow afternoon. I’ll help you sort everything out at Spinner’s End.” He got up and left, not giving Severus a chance to voice an angry dismissal. It left him rather baffled and confused as to what had just actually happened. The boy didn’t like him, yet was still helping him? Trust Potter and his hero complex to confuse and mess with all his instincts. He sighed, looking at the sickles the boy left on the table to pay for the coffees. At least he had the Gryffindor chivalry. Severus pursed his lips, standing abruptly and sweeping from the café in order to make his way back to sad, grey home. As if he would ever want to make Potter to like him - or worse - to like him back.

 

**_~~««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««~~_**

 

“Quite...suffocating.” Potter looked around, whilst Snape stared at him, thinking that if he didn’t blink and threw his worst look, the boy would flee. Eventually, he sighed, deciding that maybe the irritating brat would change his mind about helping if he was uncooperative.

“If books suffocate you, Potter, I can almost understand your stupidity and neglect of your education.” He fumed in rage when the boy rolled his eyes at him. Since when had his acid words became a joke?

“Yeah, it’s because of the endless bookshelves, not because it’s a fucking square with only one door called exit.” The boy sat on the only armchair, scanning the books closest to him. Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“That’s how welcome you are, Potter. Maybe you should go through that door and see the rest of the house.” Snape felt like screaming curses when Potter laughed and picked up one of his books, casually opening it at a random page.

“Thanks, but I’ve seen enough from the outside. Potions book? How odd, I thought you would have none of this here.” Severus frowned at the boy, just as he looked up smiling at him. “That was irony, Sir. I think the bug that bit you lives here, and just bit me too.” He closed the book with a snap and got up. Severus considered leaving through the only door and only returning when the boy got tired of sitting in this dusty room filled with books. But he decided against it. This was his home, so he stood his ground, different scenes of murder playing at the front of his brain.

“Maybe you could show me the kitchen? I promised I’d help you clean.” Snape pursed his lips, waving his wand and revealing a door hidden by one of his bookshelves. Potter smiled gratefully at him before opening it. Severus smirked. “Not funny.” The boy stared at the deserted street for a second before closing the door with a resounding bang.

“I don’t need your help, Potter!” Severus spat. “Go to some other place where you are idolized. Go sign autographs or have pictures taken, interviews, anything.” Potter stared at him from behind round glasses, his eyes burning with pure Gryffindor determination.

“How unfortunate for you that I don’t want to leave. Maybe the Daily Prophet _could_ come and make this some sort of voluntary work. I can picture the headlines now: Golden-boy helping ex Death Eater, Severus Snape, to rebuild his life after Wizengamot trials. Would look nice, wouldn’t it?” He threw a smile and Severus straightened his spine.

“You wouldn’t dare.” If possible, Potter’s smile grew even wider.

“I would. Unless...” he paused dramatically, looking around, “where”s the kitchen exactly? I’m starving, and I suppose I could let this go for now in exchange for a small snack.” Severus just stared for a few seconds, pondering whether he should risk that blackmail, but deciding not because, at this rate, he was positive of Potter’s insanity. He waved his wand again, the door he revealed earlier shifting and changing from tobacco to a dirty, yellowed white. Potter smiled, nodding at him and opening it, staring at the old kitchen.

“How do you feel about redecorating?” Snape groaned, turned with his usual graceful flair and sat in his armchair, opening one of his books. He looked from the corner of his eye to Potter, who was frowning while staring at him. “Is that a free pass to do whatever I want?”

“Yes, Potter, do whatever you want, just don’t bring the ceiling down my head. And if you so much as scratch any of my books I’ll have your head on a stick.” The brat nodded, a happy shine illuminating his eyes. Severus rolled his eyes, deciding he could lose a fight but wouldn’t surrender to the war. He regretted his decision within moments,  when the boy moved the shelf next to the kitchen door and blasted his wall.

 

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Severus took a sip of his wine while looking around. Not bad, he decided, relaxing further as he placed his feet over the coffee table the brat had gotten at a muggle flea market. Severus made a whole argument about buying new furniture but, in the end,  Potter did it anyway. It wasn’t new, but it was enough and inexpensive, the only reason for which he allowed it to enter his house. He stared at the new Formica countertop dividing the kitchen and the living room. It made the house look bigger and it added a rather nice touch to it. The second-hand couch was also a nice addition. Looking around, Severus hummed. He’d never admit it to the brat, but the place rather felt like home for the first time in his life. He took another sip, resuming his reading in the peaceful quiet.

 

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“Check” Severus smirked, looking at his black pieces strategized perfectly all over the chessboard. Harry groaned, closing his eyes.

“When I proposed this, I thought that you’d teach me how to beat Ron, not kick my arse like he always does.”

“I am teaching you, Potter. It’s not my fault that you’re too dumb to correct your mistakes and actually learn.”

“Or maybe you’re just a shit teacher.” Severus snorted. The boy had a point. “Another one?” The white pieces cursed volubly, moving back to their original positions on the board. Severus snickered as his pieces mocked them whilst rearranging themselves. He’d enchanted his chess pieces himself, enabling them to mock his opponents; they could get very caustic if they didn’t trust the other player, or when the other player had no idea what they were doing. It was one of his finest charms. They could also be deceiving, planting doubts in his opponent’s head every time they were about to make a good move. His pieces would do their best to convince the player of changing their mind to a bad or neutral move. Severus almost pitied Potter. If the boy asked, his prime lesson to the boy would be to never trust a Slytherin’s chess piece. If you want to play, bring your own. Potter sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Nah, I’m tired of having my ass kicked here. I’m pretty sure your chess pieces hate me,  though. I can swear they led my tower to your bishop once.” Severus straightened his spine.

“I assure you, my bishop saw the breach to take your tower because you failed to see it coming.” Potter crossed his arms.

“Different point of views. Your chess cheats, and I’m pretty sure Ron’s does too. Next time, I’m bringing my own.” Since Potter dared to compare his charms with those of the joke shop, Severus felt offended, but didn’t reply. His chess never cheated; it manipulated, but that was a different thing entirely.

“Next time? You surely can’t be so delusional as to expect I’ll want a repeat of this dreadful experience.” He lifted his firewhisky from the table, swirling it casually around the glass as Potter grinned maddeningly at him.

“How does next Friday sound?” Severus’ tongue clicked sharply against the roof of his mouth, an acid reply at the edge of his brain. Anything to push back at Potter and all of his unbearable Gryffindorish mannerisms. But before he could reply, the brat apparated with a crack, leaving him alone to his thoughts. Severus looked up at his father’s old muggle clock, a gift from his grandmother - the only nice relative he had - hoping it could slow down time so that next Friday would be delayed.

 

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“Let’s say, just for a moment, that there was never a war.” Severus frowned, taking a sip from his firewhisky and refraining from making the caustic comment that hovered on his tongue. “I mean, let’s say there was a war but, due to something bigger than us, it ended earlier, like...before mum and dad died.” Severus tightened his lips, not wanting to listen because, to imagine such a world where Lily was alive, hurt more than any blade.

“If that happened, hypothetically speaking, everyone would still be alive. He wouldn’t have come back. Dumbledore, Remus, Sirius and all of them would still be alive and Sirius wouldn’t have lost thirteen years in Azkaban due to Pettigrew’s betrayal.” Severus narrowed his eyes, just listening to the boy”s drunken ramble. Watching Potter down his seventh glass of firewhisky, Severus decided to call it a night and banished the bottle to a drawer, far from the brat’s reach.

“Just think, all it would take was for me to never have been born. No boy who lived. No Voldemort coming back. No Sirius in Azkaban,” Severus gulped audibly, feeling rage permeate each and every blood vessel. He watched Potter sink back in his chair and look at his empty glass, frowning, and continued in his maudlin thinking.

“Maybe, if there was a time turner strong enough somewhere, you could do that. Go back, convince your past self to never join the Death Eater’s. Mum would never hate you -  you’d still be friends - and maybe she’d never fall for my dad, and then you’d avoid my existence and like...really save the world.”

Severus swallowed past the lump in his throat. Imagining a world where Lily was alive and not mad at him was a painful delusion and not one he wanted to dwell on. He’d spent far too many years playing the what if game and imagining his life with Lily still in it. He’d learnt, through the long and lonely years, that regrets could be cold and merciless, hammering into you and beating you down with frozen needles of shame, or hot and volcanic, bubbling inside you and burning away the thought of even the smallest good thing. Lily was gone. She’d been gone from his life a long time before her death, and he was responsible for that. No one else, just him. He was responsible for the emotional wasteland that resided inside of him, and he never expected that to change. It was his punishment; his penance.

Sitting here, however, listening to her beloved son, the saviour of them all, so casually dismiss himself and his place within life caused a painful shift within him. Suddenly, the images invoked by the boy’s drunken ramble, heartfelt as he knew it certainly was, juxtaposed with those he was so sure were the truth. His idea of the truth; the golden hero, a carbon copy of James Potter, fame-hungry, revelling in his celebrity and eager to make the front pages. Now though, the kaleidoscope shifted the past and present moving across each other until they settled into a new pattern. Harry Potter; a person of flesh and bone, not a celebrity, not a copy of his father, but a human being, so raw, breathing, heart beating and capable of guilt, regret and most of all…pain. In those few moments, Severus recognised his prejudice for what it was, and let it go.

“Don’t be more of an idiot than you need to be, Potter. If you hadn’t been born, Riddle would probably be alive and kicking right now. However, there is a reason I would go back.” Potter stared at him, huge green eyes wide behind ridiculous glasses. Severus took a dramatic pause, taking a small sip of his firewhisky. “If I had never joined the Death Eaters, it means there would have been no need for me to beg Dumbledore’s forgiveness and protection.” He looked at his nails whilst taking another pause and not looking at Potter. He could sense he had the boy’s full attention as Potter shifted to the edge of his seat. “It means I’d never have been a teacher; never have had to deal with those snot faces and slimy hands over cauldrons with no respect whatsoever for the art of potion crafting.” He looked at Potter slyly, enjoying the stunned surprise on his face.

“That’s it? That’s what you regret? Having to teach?” The boy looked baffled, and Severus smirked.

“Obviously. Honestly, Potter. From all the possibilities and outcomes, you can’t possibly expect me to think your existence is what set everything in motion, You’re not that important. Now teaching, that was fundamental because it tainted my soul. No Crucio hurts more than a bunch of screeching first years doing everything wrong and melting cauldrons.” Potter’s mouth was gratifyingly open in shock.

“You...you think that, out of everything, all that pain and horror, the worst was the fact that you turned out a Hogwarts professor.” Since it was a statement rather than a question, Snape said nothing, just stared at the boy’s face. The continued to stare at each other, Potter looking very shocked and less drunk by the second, they stared until Snape’s vision began to cross. Realising the only things he could hear were his own breathing and his grandmother’s muggle clock ticking, he threw a smug smile to the boy. Potter snorted and then started a fit of giggles that caught Snape by surprise, rather alarming him.

“Oh Merlin, you almost got me,” he heard the boy say between one breath and the other, his laughter filling the room, his green eyes tearing while he desperately tried to catch his breath. Just when Severus thought he’d got himself under control, Harry started laughing again, and Snape suddenly smiled at the scene before him.

“You’re such an asshole.” Severus didn’t take it to heart. The boy could barely breathe for laughing, and Snape always felt quite humorous after his fifth glass. Potter wiped his eyes, turning to the side and throwing up, coughing between his breaths. “Shit, think I ruined your carpet,” he groaned. Severus grimaced with distaste.

“Maybe I could forego the idea of going back into the past to not become a teacher in favour of going back to not having to watch you throwing up all over my carpet,” he said as Potter cleaned his lips with his sleeve sand looked embarrassed.

“Uh, sorry. I can totally clean that, just need my wand.” Severus rolled his eyes watching the boy search for it.

“If you can’t remember where you left it, I feel certain you have crossed the line of advisable drinking, Potter”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Maybe I can go wandless.” Severus shot up from his chair, giddy for a moment and feeling his enjoyment of the scene vanishing. It wouldn’t be fun to watch his living room being set on fire.

“Forget it, Potter. I’ll clean this mess. Drunk like that, you can’t possibly attempt wandless magic to save your life, let alone to clear up a puddle of vomit. I suggest you take a nap on the couch. Apparating home will, I assure you, result in you splinching yourself. I couldn’t possibly have that on my conscience.” The boy just nodded, laying down and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the throw pillow. Severus pulled his wand out of the holster, cast a Scourgify on the carpet and sent some cleaning charms at Potter. Not even the golden brat deserved to wake with a taste of death in his mouth. Severus looked around, gathered the glasses and floated them to the kitchen. He paused at the boy’s coat by the hanger, the holly wand peeking out of it. Severus sighed, staring at it for a moment before looking at the boy who lay snoring audibly on his couch. Potter left his wand inside his coat, a coat he took off the moment he arrived at his doorstep, no questions, no second doubts. Severus always kept his in his holster, always within his reach. Ignoring the fact that it spoke volumes about the boy’s trust, not something he felt himself up to considering right now, Severus transfigured one of the pillows at Potter’s feet into a blanket, draped it across the sleeping figure, and went to his bedroom.

**__ **

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“No. Get out!” Potter sighed out loud before placing his foot at the doorstep, stopping Severus from closing it.

“Come on! It will be fun. Hermione will give me a lecture the size of my arm if I ask her to do it with me. And I can’t ask Ron because figures... they’re one of those couples. Their honeymoon has been lasting for like, forever!” Severus sighed as the brat barged in. “Besides, you’ve done this before. You know it’s fun.”

“Fun does not equal consequential, Potter.” He rolled his eyes. “And how in the name of Merlin do you know that I’ve done that?” Potter smiled wickedly at him, and Severus wanted to scream. Damnit! He’d fallen for it. Being a spy for years, hiding the truth from the most evil wizard of all time, and he’d fallen for the most stupid trick that ever existed to extract the truth from someone; a curveball. “Fine. I did it. Once. When I was stupid. And I’m not repeating it, because I’m no longer a teenager.” Potter, looking rather deflated, sighed.

“Fine. Can we Apparate somewhere, then? I don’t feel like cooking.” He sat on the couch as Snape closed the door behind him saying nothing else.

“No. I’ll cook stew.” Severus left to go to the kitchen and, looking back over his shoulder, caught Potter smiling brightly.

“You do make the best stew.” Severus snorted inelegantly. He wasn’t a good cook. He was a very good potioneer, but he always considered there to be a great deal of room for improvement in his cooking skills. He wondered when it was that Potter had become so comfortable around him and suddenly realized he himself was practically accustomed to the brat’s presence now. He’d already lost count of the number of times the boy had come to visit him at Spinner’s End. He heard Potter clear his throat, calling for his attention, and Severus looked over his shoulder rolling his eyes.

“Put this away, or I swear I’ll banish it to a place you’ll never find it or burn it right where it is.”

“Isn’t the whole purpose to burn them?” Severus shouldn’t have spent the whole day experimenting without a break. He was tired, therefore making stupid remarks.

“Severus. Come on, let’s do this.”

He paused his chopping, saying nothing. Potter never called him by his first name. “Just tell me that one time you did it wasn’t fun, and I swear I’ll never bring this up again. Swear to me with all your honesty.” Severus rolled his eyes and turned around.

“I can’t swear that.”

 Potter smirked widely and Severus sighed, staring at the weed over his counter.

“Fine. Just this one time, you hear me?” Potter nodded like a child who’d won the best sweets in the store. “Do you even know how to roll it?”

“No, that’s why I need you.” Severus sighed deeply, sitting on the stool and barely believing he was doing this again.

He’d never smoked weed whilst being a Hogwarts student, much too preoccupied with being the perfect student at that time. He hadn’t even smoked during his time as a Death Eater. No, he did it after a few months teaching at Hogwarts. A small amount of pot had been found in, and confiscated from, the trunk of a sixth year Ravenclaw. This ended up in the hands of Flitwick, who made a small gathering with Minerva at three in the morning. It wasn’t his fault his patrol of the halls had brought him to the teachers’ staffroom, and the sound of uncontrollable laughter and student stories spilling out from inside.

Standing there listening, Severus wondered for a moment whether he had ever been the subject of their laughter, and another moment baffled by the fact that the same strict teachers that taught him were human and could laugh and tell jokes. Then he decided to enter the room to check on them and ended up being invited in because they took Dumbledore’s words that he regretted joining the Dark Lord. This night, they welcomed him as a friend and equal. The rest of his time on “patrol” he spent learning how to roll a joint with Minerva, whilst Flitwick narrated to him how he came to have the pot. Their friendship, the only real friends he ever considered to have that were alive, was cemented that night and only came to a halt the year he had to kill Albus. Potter’s stool cracked under his weight, waking him from his memories. He cleared his throat, staring at the joints he had so distractedly made.

“So. Where did you learn to do that?” Severus looked at Potter from the corner of his eye.

“Minerva.” He lifted his head, staring at the boy’s shocked face. Snape rolled his eyes enjoying the look of stunned shock.

“No, you’re joking.” A huffed laugh and the boy turned serious, scrutinizing his face “You’re joking, right?” Severus snickered, answering nothing “Oh Merlin. Minerva? How? I mean...”

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter. Don’t open your mouth if you’ve not formulated a sentence yet.” Severus lighted up one of the joints, offering it to the boy He took it, sniffing and scrunching his face. “No one ever said weed smells like roses”

“No one ever said it stinks that much. How the fuck did Minerva teach you about, well, weed?” Severus took a long drag, held it in his lungs for several seconds before blowing the smoke out and looking at Potter.

“Ask her yourself.” The boy took a trial breath, choking among a fit of coughs.

“Are you insane or already high? I can never ask her that. Did Dumbledore ever smoke pot?” Severus watched Potter take another drag, this one more successful.

“No, he went for coke.” Severus deadpanned. They both smiled, Potter realizing the obvious joke and laughing freely.

“Unbelievable. All the teachers I had were junkies.” Snape said nothing, deciding to move to the couch in order to lay down there. Potter followed his lead, laying on the carpet by his side. Suddenly, the boy sat up abruptly, staring at him in shock. “That’s why Trelawney is like that, right? She’s the smuggler.” Severus puffed the smoke in his lungs out in a huff of laughter.

“I think you should probably stop now, Potter. It’s obvious you’re high enough already. To answer you, Trelawney is as she is. I can’t discount her use of psychedelic mushrooms, however.” Harry laughed, loud and careless. It made Severus throw a smile, too. “I was advised to not tell her about the pot incident because, if she is as she is without any type of external influences, one can only imagine how she’d turn out with the addition of illegal substances.” Harry smiled dreamily, looking at Snape who had his eyes fixated at the ceiling.

“Maybe she’d turn out sane.”

“Hardly Potter. If she ever comes to her senses, there’ll be a prophecy about Armageddon tied to it.” They both snorted, huffing smoke together. Potter laid down again, his free arm serving as a pillow while he dragged smoke in and out of his lungs.

“That’s what you call smoking weed with Minerva? The ‘pot incident?’” Severus snorted.

“Don’t know. Ask Flitwick.” He watched from his peripheral vision as the boy gasped and stared wide-eyed at him. Snape smiled, closing his eyes and ignoring the brat, and set about enjoying his high.

 

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“You know, at school, you were an ass. But, I never realized you can actually sound quite funny. This dark humour of yours is, okay, it’s funny.” Severus’ breath hitched and he stopped chopping the onions for a second. Funny never was a word used to describe him. He should probably just hex Potter now and be done with it. He was becoming far too comfortable in his home, arriving uninvited every weekend. Sometimes with food, other times with only drinks. Severus was sure things went downhill the exact time he brought the weed. He was definitely too old to smoke weed, and he’d very much like to forget what a giggling, talkative mess Potter made of him by bringing that nasty stuff.

“Actually...” Severus heard Potter clear his throat, “today, with the intention of payback, I wrote a list of bad jokes to tell you while you cook.” Severus bit his cheek, refusing to smile at, or be charmed by, Potter’s stupidity. He heard him fumbling with something but refused to turn around to acknowledge him.

“Okay. Let’s see. This one’s good.” He heard Potter clear his throat again and Severus could almost see, from the back of his skull, the boy straightening his spine and putting on a serious expression. If his voice was anything to go by, he was sure of it. “A dyslexic devil worshipper sold his soul to Santa.” Severus snorted, cursing himself for not holding together. He looked over his shoulder, catching one of those big, happy smiles Potter was so good at, his eyes shining behind the awful glasses. “And his twin brother worships dog.” Again, a smile played across his lips, and he clicked his tongue against his tea-stained teeth.

“You know that only a half-blood or a muggle-born would get this, right? Pureblood wizards are not very knowledgeable about religious beliefs.” Potter’s smiled faltered.

“But you got the joke, that’s what matters.” Severus nodded, turning back to chopping the onions.

“I visited my friend’s new house. He told me to make myself at home. So I threw him out. I hate having visitors.” Severus stopped again, turning around. Potter had a twinkle in his eyes that resembled Dumbledore’s. Severus was unconscious of his own expression, forgetting how he’d wanted to hex the nosy brat out of his home just a while ago. He also didn’t pay attention to his thoughts while watching the boy’s face. Merlin, he looked beautiful, seeming so happy. The thought, lasting merely a fraction of a second, was enough to make Severus suddenly self-conscious. He was twenty years older than Potter. Potter was a hero, whilst he, Severus, was an ex Death Eater hated by everyone. He repeated these thoughts at least twice in his head.

“Don’t you hate double standards? Burn a body at a crematorium and you’re being a respectful friend. Do it at home and you’re destroying evidence.” Severus looked at the brat and gave a deep, long-suffering sigh.

“Tell me, what is the object of telling these horrible, ear-splitting jokes?” The brat smiled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to laugh. And hey, they are awesome jokes. Just your flavour of humour. Let’s see. A blind woman tells her boyfriend that she’s seeing someone. It’s either really terrible news for the guy or really great news for her.” Severus smiled involuntarily, caught by the almost hopeful look on Potter’s face.

“Fine,” he sighed, pressing the bridge of his nose, scratching his eyes with one hand and looked tiredly at Potter. The boy looked so hopeful, as if expecting something. It did something to Severus’ guts, because his heart missed a beat, “there are three Hogwarts first years; a Hufflepuff, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor, Which one of them is the sexiest?” Potter looked shocked.

“Are you telling me a joke?” Severus motioned with his hand, urging him to answer. “Okay. Uh, the Gryffindor one?” The brat smiled proudly, and Severus rolled his eyes. Gryffindors and their endless humbleness.

“No, the Hufflepuff is. She’s the only one who’s seventeen.” The last thing he saw before turning back to his chopped vegetables was Potter’s shocked face, his eyes big and his mouth shaped in an O. He heard a strangled laugh.

“That was evil! Oh my god.” He smiled, looking over his shoulder. The brat’s face was red from muffling a laugh and he thought Potter might choke. “That was the most stereotyped joke I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s dark humour for you Potter. Statistically speaking, Hufflepuffs had better grades than you in my classes.”

“Let’s play this game then. How many Slytherins does it take to stir a cauldron?” Severus waved his wand, charming his knife to keep chopping the other vegetables and turned around with an arched brow.

“One. He puts the stirring rod in the cauldron and the world revolves around him,” Severus snorted.

“My turn. How many Gryffindors does it take to stir a cauldron?” Severus asked, and Potter turned serious.

“Dunno.”

“Only one. But on the last eight attempts, the cauldrons melted.” Potter laughed out loud, closing his eyes and looking up, exposing his throat, Severus’ eyes wandered involuntarily. He took a shallow breath, feeling his palms sweat. Potter could be the most gorgeous man he ever would dream to touch. He was, Severus concluded, but he was still a Potter and, with this reasoning, he swallowed hard, gritting his teeth together. Hard.

“What did the Gryffindor say to his Slytherin lover?” he asked, whilst wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Nothing, because Slytherins don’t do Gryffindors.” Green eyes turned to his sharp face and stared so deeply, that Severus was suddenly conscious of his own beating heart.

“Ouch, but no. He said, can I Slytherin you, my love?” Under the stare of his dark eyes, Harry turned serious and frowned, “It’s a sex joke,” he gulped, his green eyes looking Snape’s collar, staring at the ragged scar on his neck.

“I got the joke. It’s awful, Slytherins don’t do Gryffindors.” His eyes were such traitors because they were attentive of every single bob and twitch of his throat and face.

“Right. They don’t.” Green eyes roamed down to his crossed arms. “Come on, there must exist at least one Gryffindor and a Slytherin who married each other.” He rolled his absurdly green eyes and placed his elbows over the counter.

“Not that I’m aware of. Gryffindors are too stupid for Slytherins. They tend to marry one another and procreate quite extensively. You just have to look at the Weasleys as an example. A Slytherin would never be so crass or ill-bred as to create so many offspring, redheads moreover.” Potter’s reaction to the sneer on Severus’ face and in his voice was obvious. Anger flashed in his eyes.

“Is that what you think of them? Ill-bred? Common, you mean? And you talk about the arrogance of Gryffindors. Molly has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. She’s the one who killed Bellatrix for threatening her daughter. She’s the one who took me under her wing just for the sake of being a good person. Me. An unknown boy who’d never had anyone to love him or listen to him. To take care of him. If that’s stupidity for you, then we should all be lucky to be so stupid, I say. If this is what you truly think, it’s no wonder you’re alone and bitter, Snape.” Potter’s eyes had hardened to emerald chips, his voice spitting out the sharpened truths like stone arrows.

“How dare you? Get out!” Severus wasn’t going to stand there being insulted in his own home. Not by anyone. Caustic as he could be, even he had his limits.

“Can’t manage to hear the truth? That you’re alone because you’re an asshole? That people hate you because you just can’t get over your past and treat people as people for once? You’re a fucking misanthrope, Snape, and you’ll die alone because of it! You can be the bravest person I know for spying on Voldemort and helping the Order to win, but you’re full of shit!” Harry was breathing hard, obviously distressed, but Snape kept his arms crossed, his hands pressing hard against his arms, not trusting himself to not grab his wand and hex the boy to oblivion.

“Are you done with your temper tantrum, Potter?” He gritted his teeth, feeling anger wash over him, and he welcomed that anger because he was used to it. Potter, anger and hatred were so much more familiar, and he welcomed that feeling with open arms. “I don’t know if I should feel surprised in you acting like a hormonal teenager, or if I should feel surprised that you know what misanthrope means.”

If Potter could kill with a look, he, Severus, would have been writhing in his death throes right now.

“Fuck you! You know what? I shouldn’t have gone to the trouble of saving your arse from the Wizengamot, much less try to be your friend.” Suddenly, Severus didn’t feel anger or venom coursing through his veins. He felt cold, cold all the way down his spine. His heartbeat quickened as if fighting against allowing Potter’s words to sink in. And a single second after the boy apparated to Merlin knows where, every single piece of glass on every surface of his kitchen exploded into flying shards.

He took a deep breath, refusing to allow the feelings of hurt and loneliness creep through him. If Potter regretted clearing him, then fine, so be it. He didn’t need the golden boy to live his own life. The only thing the brat had done all this time was to force his way into Severus’ world and mess with his calm and systematic approaches to his life.

He banished the now glass-ruined soup he’d intended to cook and spent the next hour calmly mending the broken glasses and bottles in his kitchen, refusing to even think about the brat. The rest of the day he spent experimenting on potions in his improvised laboratory downstairs, in a very poorly illuminated basement that he was very familiar with. He knew every scratch and crevice in the dry wood sustaining the house above. He’d hidden there most of his childhood.

If he made an effort, he could still hear the creak of the floorboards above his head, protesting under the weight of his father’s lumbering footsteps, his belt buckle ominously scraping the floor, his deep voice calling for his son. He could also hear his mother’s screams, hit after hit when his father had failed to find him. Those memories caused too much pain and he suppressed them in a rush of anger, regret and remembered powerlessness. He wasn’t the hero of Potter’s imagination; he was not brave for lying right to the Dark Lords face. He was a scared little boy who’d hidden from his drunken father, deep in the bowels of the house, allowing his mother to take a beating in his place. He was a coward child who had allowed his father to break his mother’s wand, instead of his, just to render them powerless and pliable under his kicks and punches.

He wasn’t a Prince like his mother, who’d coldly stared into her brutal husband’s eyes, her head tilted high in pride, even with a purple eye and a bleeding nose. No, he was a Snape, one who his own mother looked at with hate and disappointment the day he’d received his Hogwarts letter because, if only he’d been a squib, he could work at the cotton factory like his father, and he would think that at least his son was normal. He was a Snape, caustic and angry all the time, kicking, pushing, and spitting hate around everyone because his life was a disaster. He was a Snape, and like his father had driven his mother to her grave through beating after beating, he’d also killed Dumbledore; and like his father who had no friends, he didn’t know if he could ever count on his again. The year with the Carrows at Hogwarts had severed those bonds in a way he had yet to fully comprehend. And he could blame the war, blame Dumbledore’s madcap plans and schemes, blame the violence and neglect of his childhood, blame the defection of his best friend, blame so many outside influences. Deep down, however, he blamed no one besides himself, his choices, his misanthropy, just as Potter had said. He wasn’t lovable, not even tolerable if he were to guess. He could barely tolerate himself, if truth be told.

He heard a thump above his head at around three o’clock in the morning. Sleep proving elusive, he stared at full bottles of the numerous potions he’d spent the whole day, and most of the night, brewing. Alert now, he listened carefully to the creak on the stairs leading to his bedroom. He knew every sound this house-made, and this wasn’t the old wood settling in the cold night air. Someone was here.

Severus sighed to himself and stood up quietly. He supposed he should check to see what was going on. Wand at the ready and moving silently through the darkness – he didn’t need light to navigate his childhood home - he knew exactly which steps and floorboards to avoid  in order to make no sound. He wasn’t surprised to see Potter silhouetted in the doorway to his bedroom, as if unsure as to whether to step over the threshold.

In the moonlight that filtered in through the half-opened curtains, Potter looked like he’d been crying and Severus, who’d been running on the hurt and bitterness that Potter’s words had filled him with at their last meeting, felt himself soften under the conflicted feelings. The boy lifted his hands, showing he had no intention of inciting a fight, but Severus still kept his wand aimed right at Potter’s chest.

“If you do indeed regret freeing me from Azkaban, I believe I can manage to Avada you right here and willingly spend the rest of my life locked up where I should have been all this time. I suggest you leave before I’m more than tempted.” Potter’s lips quivered.

“I didn’t mean that.” He looked down fiddling at the hem of his red shirt and Severus needed a second to figure out what he said because it was almost inaudible.

“Leave. Now.” His hands trembled for mere seconds, but it was enough for Potter to take it as a cue and an empty threat, just as if he needed to see Severus falter to know it was empty. The Severus Snape, who’d spent seven years protecting this boy’s life. Severus knew that to threaten Potter’s life was the most invalid threat he’d ever make. It wasn’t in him. Potter reached forward and grabbed the end of his wand so gently that it hummed in his hand, as if reacting to a caress. His hand fell to his side ,and Harry’s fingertips travelled from his wand to his hand, so light he could almost have imagined it. He didn’t pull away, however.

Later, if anyone asked him, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint what and who started it, but in a matter of seconds, it went from Potter touching his hand to Severus pinning him to the wall and kissing him furiously, all the pent-up emotion of the past few hours breaking free. Potter’s hands travelled to his potions-greasy hair – he hadn’t give thought to his usual protections during his last hours of brewing - but he didn’t recoil in disgust. For just a second, caught up in a haze of lust, Severus’ brain tried to warn him that what they were doing was utter madness, but Potter pressed his hips against his and moaned into the furious kiss. All thoughts left Severus’ head as Harry’s legs lifted, hugging his hips and trusting the wall and Severus to carry his weight. He ended the kiss suddenly, and Severus’ wondered if they would finish this folly in a clutter of embarrassment and excuses. Potter’s lips ended his wondering, however, when they travelled from his lips to his neck, kissing and biting, marking him with a possessive fierceness that only a Gryffindor could muster. He felt warmth and longing pool at every single place Potter touched, the brat’s hips moving and frotting against him. Severus felt so weak, and yet, at the same time, never more powerful, knowing that, for such a long time, if ever, no one had ever desired him like this. He wasn’t a Prince who might push the boy away and tell him to clear his head and come back later. He was a Snape and, as such, he responded to every single touch; he kissed and licked a tanned neck, biting and tasting the deliciousness of Harry’s skin. Time and again, he was drawn back to those full-blown red lips, which became more enticing with every volatile sweep of his tongue and mouth. They mesmerised, and he never wanted to pull himself away from them.

Severus didn’t stop until Potter came in his pants against the wall, a mix of rage and need driving him. And he never felt so vindicated in his entire life of suffering as at that moment when he saw green eyes flutter closed, and Harry’s head hit back against the wall in a pulsating wave of pleasure. Severus watched the boy hit his high in a haze; he’d never seen anything that beautiful or that satisfying in his entire life. To watch Potter come apart under his hands and lips was the most satisfying revenge he could ever have imagined and, with that resolve, Severus could do nothing against his dark desires except to succumb. He wanted this again, he wanted it forever. Not even the framed picture of his late mother crashing to the ground after Potter hit his head on the wall, his back arching in a rush of orgasmic bliss, served as a warning that he shouldn’t tread this path. Her warning was drowned out by Potter’s moans and engulfed by Severus’ mind screaming that he wanted to undo Potter even more. As Potter’s body relaxed, Severus carried him to his bed, never feeling so fulfilled as when the boy complied and trembled to each touch. He couldn’t possibly have thought or planned a sweeter retaliation for all his pain all these years.

By dawn, Potter was passed out on his side. Severus refusing to close his eyes, even though exhaustion tugged at him, he laid staring and not believing, as if he were delusional with fever. Their clothes were scattered somewhere around the room, the brat’s chest was hidden under the heavy warm blankets. If only Severus had the guts to reach out, he could touch the expanse of warm tanned skin and feel, under the pressure of his fingers, the life oozing from Potter, his chest rising rhythmically, his heart beating, each bump and shiver of his skin. But, fearing he would be proven crazy and hallucinating, Severus just kept staring and waiting for his madness to vanish in front of his eyes. Potter moved under the blankets and, obviously having no qualms at taking up space, even in sleep, threw his leg over Severus’ own. Merlin’s beard! The coldest feet he’d ever felt touched his calf, sending shivers up his body. He still didn’t feel like moving away, the cold of Harry’s feet proving it had really happened, that he wasn’t mad on any type of warped revenge.

When green eyes fluttered open, Severus was staring at the ceiling, seemingly enthralled by a small stain of mould near one corner. The sun was already high in the sky and casting light through the grimy windows showing through the half-opened curtains. He didn’t see Harry waking – he’d decided at some point not to be caught staring like some kind of love-sick fool -  but when he felt the boy stirring and then swinging himself to sit on the edge of the bed, Severus stiffened, and he wished he’d had more time to prepare for the other proverbial shoe to drop. He’d never had many friends, Dumbledore and Minerva taking pride of place for a very long time, and it had taken a long time to build any kind of working rapport with other colleagues, pot nights notwithstanding.

Potter, Severus realized, had been a somewhat forced upon him breath of fresh air. He and his late-night chess games, take-out dinners that he always brought, butterbeer bottles, which Severus hated but never had the heart to tell him because...

Severus took a deep breath; because he was human and even being spiteful and not a good man, he enjoyed the company, even if it was that of the brat. Trust him to ruin things for himself and probably lose the only person who’d ever visited him frequently. He supposed their truce and attempt at some semblance of friendship was fated to end the moment he drove his disgusting mouth towards Potter’s. In all honesty, he couldn’t blame the boy for running away from such deviance.

He looked to Potter’s side, part of him desperately tugging at any chance of keeping it innocent and casual. The deepest and darkest parts, however, made his dark eyes involuntarily hover over Potter’s back noticing some scars and moles that turned his mouth dry and made his groin twitch. He defended himself, arguing that it was indeed a lovely back. He had dimples of Venus, and Severus took a second to moisten his lips, whilst soaking up each detail that the moonlight had failed to reveal. He watched silently as Potter scratched his head, causing his hair to become an even bigger mess than usual. Severus’ fingers itched to comb themselves through it until it had settled down, but he resolved not to move and fought the temptation of using Legilimency to read Potter’s thoughts in order to give him some clue as to how to proceed.

“I’m starving.”  As if slapped in the face by Potter’s husky voice, Snape moved his head back to stare at the ceiling again, guilt gnawing at him for such dirty thoughts. He felt more than saw Potter getting up and fetching his scattered clothes to dress again. “Uh... Okay...this isn’t awkward at all. Do you, I dunno, want some coffee?”

Snape looked from the mould on his ceiling to Potter hovering in the doorway, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his green eyes looking desperate to focus on something – anything -  but soaking up all the details of Severus’ bedroom at once, never really stopping moving from one thing to another. Severus sat up, his bare feet touching the cold floor grounding him for a possible blow, the blankets sliding off his chest covered only his cock, and he hated how vulnerable he felt being like that in front of a dressed brat. Not trusting his voice, he nodded, and Potter fled from his room without another word, obviously relieved to escape. Severus completely understood the boy’s need to flee from there and never look back. It’s what he would do if he’d just had casual sex with another man like himself. Surely no one would ever desire to stick around? He breathed deeply, and rose from the bed, walking naked to the bathroom.

 

**_~~«««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««~~ _ **

 

“Why did you come back?” The green eyes he was so familiar with looked up from his chest. They’d been like that for the past hour, and the brat had finally stopped crying forty-five minutes ago, but still hadn’t let him go. It was enough to send him spiralling down into his memories and ruminating on a past he locked in a box very, very deep inside his mind. “That night, when we had sex for the first time? You left. You asked if I wanted coffee and then you left. Why did you come back?” Harry was frowning and biting his lips in obvious agitation. Severus looked away from him, deciding the shelf filled with pictures of Potter’s friends was far more entertaining.

“I... you said you wanted coffee.” The boy gave half a shrug and Severus snorted. He shifted on the couch they’d laid down on after five minutes of Potter’s crying. Feeling more comfortable, Potter laid his head over his chest again, Severus was convinced they weren’t cuddling. It was just Potter hugging him like an octopus because he needed comfort. “I wanted coffee too, and you had a French press.” Severus snorted again.

“Makes sense, except that I hate coffee, and when you came back I was drinking Earl Grey and you had it instead of the coffee.” His hand was absently combing Potter’s hair, and he knew he’d be furious with himself for giving in later, alone in the dark. Potter wouldn’t stay, he’d never stay. Hadn’t he experienced that once, first-hand? By now, he was convinced he was the worst kind of masochist.

“The tea smelled good, so I decided to have it. Besides, if you hate coffee, why did you have a French press, and why did you even say you wanted it that morning?” Severus gulped, staring at the ceiling.

“Nonsense. You’re deviating from the main matter.” Snape felt like he could feel Harry’s frown, even if he’d been in another room entirely.

“No, I’m not. You said you wanted coffee, but when I came back you were having tea.” Sighing, he adjusted himself on the couch again feeling uncomfortable. Potter stared at him, scrutinizing him carefully.

“I fail to see how it matters. I can change my mind about things.” Potter gave a small smile. It was something compared to the depressed demeanour the boy had yesterday, but still, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and Severus felt dissatisfied with it.

“So can I. I left and decided to come back, and then I decided to also have the tea.” Severus pressed his lips together.

“Or maybe. You don’t give two fucks about the tea, or the coffee, and used it as an excuse to flee from my house that morning. When I asked you why you came back, I meant it.” He could sense Harry’s body stiffen in his arms.

“As I said, I can change my mind about things.” Snape drew in a sarcastic huff.

“Indeed. I know better than anyone that you can do such things without evaluating any consequences”

“Is this your way of saying that I hurt you?” Severus refused to respond to such nonsense, but Harry just hugged him tighter and hid his face between Snape’s chest and his own arm, choosing silence.

By the time the brat slept, Severus was already drowsy. Not feeling like moving and waking Potter, he let himself sink into sleep, concluding he could take a potion for muscle soreness later if necessary. He dreamed a tumble of promises, hurt, pain, death, curly brown hair, freckles and a fiery redhead. What stood out the most amongst the confusion and fog of the endless images playing inside his mind were the fieriest green eyes he’d ever seen, and an endless expanse of golden skin he was so familiar with that, even in his dreams, he’d consider it real.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave kudos and comments.


	4. A Knight for a King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took so long.  
> I was swamped, but here it is. It's shorter than I expected, the next chapter will probably be epic long and I think I'll post an Epilogue too. I'm already writing those.  
> It's full of POV character including a new one ;)
> 
> Trigger warning!  
> Mentions of suicide.

 

His arms didn’t feel like home anymore. I remember a time when I would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming for Sirius, Remus, Ron, Hermione or anyone really. He was always quick to catch me, clutch me in his embrace and help me breathe with him until the hurt subsided, until I was okay to sleep again. Now I felt nothing and feeling nothing was worse than any nightmare I could have, it made me desire all that pain again just so I could feel human. I moved slightly trying not to wake him up. I was entangled in his embrace, his face relaxed from sleep, he looked so much younger when he wasn´t frowning or sneering at something, his crooked nose looked different from the angle I was watching and it made me remember when I was eleven and had to look way up to stare into his eyes. I didn’t deserve it, I deserved nothing, not him, not Hermione, not Ginny, my eyes burned again, he didn’t feel like home anymore, Grimmauld Place didn’t feel like home, not even the idea of Hogwarts, there was nothing left for me.

I looked at my fingers moving slowly over the thick fabric of his robes, barely touching, just trying to feel each thread and breathing once at a time, in and out. What is worse when you’re trapped inside yourself? Feel absolutely nothing or feel too much of all the bad that refuse to leave? I can’t choose between these two, I can’t keep being thorn in two among all this mess, I want it to end but no matter how much I desire it never does. Maybe Voldemort was dead, but he’d always live inside me, I’ll never forget the green light, the scream of my mother, the stale smell of the cupboard, his rise at the graveyard, the war, the deaths. No matter how much I wanted and clutched the hope that he’d finally die, I’m stuck with him because I’m stuck with all the memories, I'll never be free of Voldemort's taint.

I should have taken the fucking train at King’s Cross, I guess that for him to die I have to do it too. So everyone can move on and forget about me, forget about their own pain. Molly would never look at me again without remembering Fred’s death, Ron would never look at me and not blame me for the rift in his family. Severus would never look at me and not blame himself for my mom, he’d never look at me and not remember being forced to kill Dumbledore. Hermione would never look at me without remembering having to Obliviate everything she lived with her parents, Teddy would never grow up without someday realizing that his parents died fighting a war that I was responsible for. Voldemort wasn’t dead, he lived in me, I held great responsibility for all the pain he caused and I will never forget it, this pain will never forget me. It will keep beating me up and breaking anything I wish to build, it will keep shattering me into this emptiness and even though I know I deserve it, I wish it could stop. I moved my free arm to wipe my tears, Severus was snoring softly and I remembered how endearing I used to find his snores.

Why the fuck did I leave? Why couldn’t I just... Stay. I think I hurt him the most, and he’s still helping me. I don’t deserve any of this, he doesn’t deserve any of this. He’s the one that should be called hero, he should take revenge for all his pain, he should have cast that killing curse he threatened to the first time we fucked. I should never have allowed him to fall in love with me. I got up in a spurt, I needed to get out of here. I needed to make it stop. I ran to my bedroom, I was trying to breath harder but the air was thick around me and it felt like I was suffocating, my hands were shaking and I couldn’t think anything past the pain but I didn’t need to think to open the drawer on the bedside table. My hands brushed the white bottle for a fraction of a second before it flew away from my grasp, my vision got even more blurred because of all the tears, I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t voice anything, everything got lost in a haze of despair and pain, I couldn’t feel myself screaming and beating myself begging for everything to end and for that bottle, I couldn’t process Snape’s grasp on arms so I could stop, I couldn’t feel the punches, bites and scratches I gave him. I only remember him holding me, as he used to in the middle of the night. I can only remember that it didn’t feel like home because there was nothing left.

 

 

The apartment was dead silent, there wasn’t even a clock to hear it ticking, the only signal of life was the small plant beside Severus’ and that only made the place more dark and sad. Snape sighed inaudibly and stared at his hands and the red angry lines of the scratches Harry gifted him. Not even in his rage attacks due to Voldemort's piece of soul he’d seen him lose that amount of control. For a moment Severus wondered while staring at the bottle of pills in front of him, what would he do if he’d gotten his hands on them?  What would Harry do if he wasn’t there to pull it out of his reach and cast a spell for him to sleep?

Snape had dealt with an enormous amount of panic attacks while being the head of Slytherin house. He had seen what depression could do, he had seen it first hand from his mother, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember seeing this amount of self-destructive behaviour, not even from his childhood memories, not even when his mother chose to stay with his good for nothing father.

He cast a general healing charm watching the lines on his hands slowly receding, the pain from a bite on his shoulder alleviating a little. The sting brought him reminders of warm nights spent in Spinner’s end, desperate angry sex and a sweet, almost painful release. It brought back the tingling sensation of his lips touching a scar in a face that he spent years trying to erase from his mind. He closed his eyes pressing the bridge of his nose, Potter’s scream invading his mind _‘_ _neither can live while the other survives'_ Potter screamed that while in his arms, he bit his shoulder while grunting in a fit of rage and panic that he had to die. He couldn’t live while the Dark Lord survived in him, he cheated at King’s Cross, he was meant to die. He cheated, he cheated, he cheated.

Severus' hands trembled and he pressed his palms over his eyelids until he saw tiny gold stars, his hands came out wet. He thought he felt lost when Dumbledore commended his death from his hands, he thought he felt at a loss when he lost his mother to madness and eventual murder from his father. Potter said he couldn’t take it anymore but Severus had doubts that it was _he_ who couldn’t. His mind went reeling in one of the many pasts he wishes to forget, he couldn’t go through what he went with his mother, not again and not with Harry. That powerlessness he went through didn’t fit him anymore and even knowing so, all he felt was a very deep weakness.

His vision blurred while he stared at the tips of his fingers over his lap. He could make for the most miserable scene of the year, Severus Snape crying from frustration over a young man he was certain he hated, crying because he spent as many years as Harry had of birthday counts just trying to protect the dumb Gryffindor, only for him, in the end, to wish for his own death. He wondered, not for the first time, where it all went wrong. Harry, who left him one morning without properly saying goodbye the only signal of him having ever been there was a striped carnation over his pillow. Severus sneered to the flower and burned it with wandless magic with the same passion Firewhisky burned his throat that night. He drank to oblivion until he couldn’t read the bold letters the prophet printed to state his entanglement with Ginevra 'He wanted to build a family, a simple cottage, get married and have kids'. They didn’t do any of those things, they’d never do any of those things.

Where it all went wrong? Severus moved to the couch laying back down the same way he was before Harry’s panic attack, the spot felt much colder without his body but Severus was certain it was for the best, he wasn’t a let go and forgive type of man. He drifted in his own memories for a good hour before he felt someone trying to breach the wards he positioned over the brat’s apartment. Severus only looked at the door waving his wand and opening it, Ronald Weasley being revealed and stepping inside. Severus sat on the couch while Weasley stood out like a sore thumb and after at least three throat cleanings and a lot of staring around to avoid his eyes the young man opened his mouth.

'Is Harry here?’ he shifted his weight from a foot to the other looking like a kid desperate to beg mummy to go, said mummy too enthralled in conversation with her best friend.

'Asleep' The freckled face turned towards Potter’s bedroom.

'Oh, Uh... D'you think he’s going to wake up soon?’ Severus reclined on the couch dreading the prospect of Weasley waiting here with him.

'I cast a spell for him to sleep, it can last five minutes or five hours' His face wasn’t exactly readable after Severus’s statement, he looked at least conflicted.

‘Alright, I’ll wait then' The redhead looked at the other couch, sitting right in front of him. Severus' head throbbed in pain from anticipated suffering. ‘Uh... Nice weather today right?’ Snape only arched an eyebrow looking at the window to watch the downpour outside. If Weasley was out for Halloween he’d be a carrot under Snape scrutiny. ‘You play chess right?’

'I fail to grasp Weasley's and their endless need for small talk’ Severus waved his wand, a conjured whisky bottle materializing in front of him. He noticed the obnoxious man grasp over his wand holster when he waved his wand, the taut on the ginger’s shoulders indicating he was ready for any fight, it amused and stung him at the same time. It also added a new prospect over his perception about the golden trio, Granger trusted him but her husband, Potter’s best friend, did not. Interesting to say the least. He waved his wand a second time, a box of plastic Muggle chess came flying from one of the bedrooms, the black and white pieces arranging themselves while the board game sat softly over the coffee table.

‘I didn’t know Harry had a Muggle chess, we always play his Wizard board” Severus said nothing in return but upon seeing that chess piece, he looked at his king noticing an almost invisible scratch marking on the cheap plastic piece near the base, Severus almost smiled of nostalgia.

_‘Since your chess is the most cheating game I’ve ever played I made my word and brought my own’ Severus rolled his eyes looking at the suspiciously small box._

_‘My chess doesn’t cheat’_

_‘It does. Today pal, we’re playing by the rules and going Muggle’ Potter sat cross-legged in front of his coffee table and he followed suit. Spinner’s end seemed a little less gloomy with Potter smiles inside his home, however, he’d never admit that not even to himself._

_‘You’ll still lose anyway’ Severus said picking up the black pieces and analysing them. ‘This thing it’s so cheap it offends me’ Harry only smiled._

_‘That’s what makes it fun. The simplest things are the best aren’t they?’ He moved his pawn making Severus arch his eyebrow already predicting the future bad moves that pawn, on that place, would entail._

_‘You always lose because you try to save all of your pieces, you end up sacrificing the important ones to protect the pawns. To win, you must sacrifice the smallest ones’ Harry only smiled sadly at him._

_‘You and Dumbledore must have been really good friends and understanding of each other’ Severus felt his heart falter, he was talking about chess not... Of course, the Saint Hero Potter would try to save every single pawn, he’s the stupid one who always tried to save them all and never accepted losing a single one._

_Severus sighed looking at the board. The white paw flanked by a knight, if he took the pawn down with a pawn of his he was sure Potter would avenge it using his knight, giving room for his bishop to take it down. A knight for a pawn, it sounded like war. It sounded like the moment Dumbledore exposed his game strategy, Potter’s life for the Dark Lord’s one. A knight for a king, except that people were more than just chess pieces. Potter could be a king, flanked and protected from all sides, on Dumbledore's chessboard he was a disposable piece in the name of strategy. In his... He didn’t know yet, he was confused and afraid to let Potter in with all his warm smiles and soft words._

_He moved his bishop in another direction leaving the white knight live. It was the dumbest move he’d ever done, that or Potter grabbing his black king after winning that game for the first and only time. He bit it around the base with the most exciting mischievous grin Severus’s had ever seen, only to throw the whole board to the other side of the room and crawl over his lap kissing and ripping his clothes fiercely. The knight gained a more important place on his chessboard that day and Severus saw how dumb he was for looking too closely and fall for the Knight’s smiles and the warmness he could offer._

His finger grazed the biting mark at the base of the king and Severus placed it over the board without voicing anything. Ronald’s strategy was surprisingly good and granted him some real challenge even though he hated to admit. They were starting their third game and on a tie by the time he heard Potter tumbling over the living room, the fierce and engrossed shine on the ginger’s eyes transformed to concern when they moved from the game to Potter’s face.

‘Hey, you okay mate?’ Harry just nodded avoiding their eyes. Ronald sighed. ‘I... How about lunch at the Burrow, you can schedule it?’ Severus watched their interaction silently only looking at Potter’s bodily reaction, his body was tense, he was uncomfortable near the Weasley.  To Severus’s surprise Potter nodded agreeing, he looked at the Weasley who threw a huge relieved smile.

‘Ginny's here on vacation, mate... I know you two haven’t talked for a while but she’s worried and said she wanted to talk with you if it’s okay of course. If not she won’t go to the burrow when you’ll be there’ Severus looked at Potter, his fingertips were white from holding on the door frame his shoulders were tense but he nodded again not voicing anything else. Severus frowned looking at Weasley who also looked at him confused with the boy’s lack of words. Severus just jerked his head towards the door.

‘Uh, okay. Firecall us whenever you’re ready mate, see you soon’ Severus breathed more easily after Weasley smiled and got up to leave. As he heard the apparition crack the lack of noise was deafening.

Potter just ran and hugged him, his large curls itching his crooked nose felt familiar but also bittersweet. Every second with Potter felt bittersweet. Severus couldn’t muster the will to hug him back, he should protect his heart better. He breathed deeply looking at the ceiling _He’ll always leave_ repeating like a chant in his own mind. He hugged him back weakly, Potter’s embrace tightened, he was straddling his lap and it reminded him of warm conversations over wine bottles and slow sex on his cheap couch. He grabbed his shoulders pushing him back to stare into the green eyes. He couldn’t say anything looking into them, even if they looked that empty. He pushed Potter aside and got up walking to the kitchen, moving his wand to boil some water and brew a strong tea.

‘Ginevra probably wishes to rekindle your relationship’ Potter walked after him and hugged him again, tighter this time.

‘No, she... She knows, that I’m gay’ Severus was surprised about that fact but didn’t show. ‘I broke up with her, 'cause of that. She hates me’ They didn’t say anything else, words were overestimated among what Severus felt in Harry’s silence.

 

‘What a shitty, boring day’ Merula cursed again under her breath for what it was certainly the fifth time in two hours at least. She cast Tempus noticing only twenty minutes had passed since the last time she had checked the hour and she felt like one of the many times she had a brilliant idea to try but the cauldron just wouldn’t boil quick enough because time was mocking her by dragging itself slowly and tediously. She wouldn’t normally cast complaints about a weak selling day, she would usually feel happy about it and go to the lab to experiment some more. What was bothering her wasn’t precisely the lack of customers, it was _Potter_. She rolled her eyes remembering the name.

 She was a woman of routine, she liked things quick, fast, and easily resolved. And dear _Potter_ was getting on her way. He and Severus were tiptoeing around each other since the day the boy arrived looking like he hadn’t slept for a week. And since then, Severus’s routine with her was replaced with Severus’s routine with _Potter._ Potter would show up at the lab and sit _on the fucking counter_ _beside Severus’s cauldron_ and that was fucking outrageous by itself, he’d watch him work for ten minutes or _hours_ depending on the day. Everything while he played with the diamond-edged knife, the same knife Severus would behead her if she even looked wrongly at it, and he allowed Potter languidly shift it between his fingers while watching him _brew._ She huffed out loud, if _she_ ever dared to stop and stare at Snape brewing, he’d probably toss a cauldron at her head and knock her out. Dear Harry, however, could stare freely and he wouldn’t even cast complaints.

She’d be fine with that, she was happy for Snape. He was definitely less caustic around Harry and he did seem to be happier. So, she was happy if he was happy. She could work around Potter if it wasn’t for the giggles of occasional stupid jokes he made, _and Snape threw a smile at him. An. Actual. Smile._ Or at least the definition of a smile for the man. But for her, the cherry on top was that sometimes, Severus’s lost himself in his brewing and concentration and he’d actually hum mindlessly, no song at all. He’d just, hum in a rhythm that only his subconscious seemed aware of and _that, she_ couldn’t work around of _._ She’d been working beside a silent and grumpy Snape for two years, it was driving her mad.

She wished those two could just go upstairs and shag senselessly, she was sure the lab would turn normal again after all that tiptoeing around each other bullshit. Being a practical woman, she couldn’t understand. Severus wanted to fuck Potter, Potter obviously wanted to fuck Severus. She was begging gods that she wasn’t certain that existed if those two could just get on with it already to _finally stop_ making the lab so... Inhabitable.

She heard a thump over there and groaned low. Casting a Tempus again she noticed Potter took forty minutes later than usual to come downstairs. She tiptoed to the lab and poked her head silently, Snape would hex her to oblivion if he caught her eavesdropping, and the man was a spy for the Order much longer than the second war lasted, she had to be careful. She sighed catching her eye over Harry. It was obnoxious not to work at the lab every day, the most unbearable days for her to be there usually were the days that the boy laughed and played jokes, those were the days that Severus’s smiled too. But there were also bad days, _really bad days,_ she looked at the deep dark circles around the green eyes, no joy over the young face, he looked as if it was hard to even take a breath. Snape stopped his mincing and looked at Potter sitting on his counter, he stared for a few seconds and looked back at his worktable. Merula knew the lab would be quiet for the rest of the day, she wished it to be unbearable with Severus’s humming and Potter’s idle chit chat. She wished there was something she could do, she turned back to the reception, and after a minute or two of pointlessly looking at the streets, she smiled shrewdly when she noticed the store in front of the apothecary. She left the apothecary and crossed the street silently with the sole purpose to make a little shopping on Snape’s account, he would curse her later but she couldn’t care less.

 

 

Severus only stared at _it_. He looked at Snyde clearly waiting for an explanation, an arched brow and a sneer right in place. Potter was crouching looking at the scrawny thing, his back towards him. Snyde smiled slyly and just _left._ The fucking cheek, Severus wondered. He’d take the fucking thing by the scruff and kick it out of his lab for good. To think she had the guts to place a fucking stray cat in the middle of his lab, she deserved to get fired with a Reducto thrown at her ass. Severus' eyebrow trembled and his head actually hurt.

Potter looked back at him over his shoulder, the black and white thing sniffing his hand and scratching himself on his fingers, Harry looked at his eyes and smiled, this time his smile reached his green eyes that seemed to sparkle for the first time in ages. Severus just stood there looking at both of them, the cat, who stretched himself a little less scared with Potter’s proximity showed to be bigger than he thought the first time, he glared at the cautious furball. Merula pocked her head on the lab again looking directly at Potter. She smiled, briefly and excited while seeing their interaction.

‘I know isn’t any special date but Snape asked me to get him a familiar a few days ago. Hope you liked it since he’s yours too I guess’ She vanished as quickly as she spurted that big fat lies out. Harry looked at him again a slight blush covering his cheeks.

‘What'd she mean saying he’s also mine?’ Severus shrugged, ignoring her words, he’d never even asked for a familiar. Potter only smiled turning back at the cat and scratching it behind its ears. ‘Can I give him a name?’

‘Sure’ Severus said getting closer to Harry’s frame. Also crouching beside him to take a better look at the cat.

‘How about...’ he looked around at the lab. ‘Pepperup?’ Severus tried to keep serious, but failed miserably, a smile played his lips ‘Since you’re brewing the monthly batch for Saint Mungo’s today, make sense right?’

‘It’s a stupid name’ Harry smiled again with his answer and sat on the floor while scratching Pepperup. Severus’s would never thank Merula, he’d still curse her, but he’d also be eternally grateful for her being capable of placing a real smile over Harry’s face. He watched Potter bond with the cat with the corner of his eye the whole day, the subtle smile not leaving his face once. A very prolonged worry that was pressing his whole chest, left him when he saw happiness in Harry’s eyes.

 

 

She regretted nothing, she whistled lowly while stirring her cauldron and making notes about possible new properties of salamander’s blood. Harry was somewhere upstairs curled with Pepperup. She bit her lips trying not to laugh about the cat’s name, it was cute if she was being honest. Severus was doing nothing, she wasn’t afraid of looking back over her shoulder to only find him drilling a hole through her skull. She’d be afraid if it was her first year working around the man, by this time she already realised that most of his persona was for show, Severus was a softie around those he cared about, hard edges and cutting words but overall, a very protective man.

Seeing Snape glare at her without saying anything, she also said nothing and looked at her cauldron again, it’s been a week since she got the cute cat. And Potter seemed happier, he should be thankful for her, it’s not her fault the cat found the lab fumes to be as entailing as catnip and occasionally decided to jump over the counter and smash a bunch of bottles all over the floor. He’d come downstairs running just to get inside the lab to steal salamanders and knock on the ground very breakable materials, rare ingredients be damned. Potter would come running after him, hot on his tail to grab the little thing trying to avoid a fit from Severus. It was quite comical, Merula did think the cat brought a better mood in the whole place.

She finally could brew quietly on her counter, Potter had the cat for company and spent less time with Snape during work, which meant fewer giggles and less humming and more quiet which for her, was perfect.

‘I never asked for a familiar’ She smiled, _finally,_ the man decided to get out with all his repressed feelings. Severus’s and feelings were very much comical, the man knew how to deal with them the same way a rock had a perception of life.

‘Yeah, Potter looks better right?’ She cast a cooling charm on her cauldron noting the colour change. Snape sighed and she looked over her shoulder seeing him pressing his eyeballs, his shoulders looked tired, as if he carried a burden for too long.

‘And what exactly should I do with the thing after he leaves?’ She frowned not really following the man’s line of thought.

‘Please, he’s head over heels for you. He’ll stay, you should fuck him and get in one of those things they call _relationship’_ She gave a great infatuation on the last word. Snape threw a dry humourless laugh.

‘He needs me Merula’ She stopped what she was doing and turned around to look at him, he called her by her first name. ‘He needs me because he has depression because he can’t be trusted taking care of himself. Because he can’t be alone and don’t want his friends around. He needs me because I’m the one with the knowledge to control dosages, and what medicines he should be taking’ He sighed crossing his arms over his chest and Merula frowned. She knew about all that, but she also knew Harry liked the man, he’d never sit for _hours_ beside a rotten smelling cauldron to watch him brew if the boy felt only gratitude towards him.

‘He’ll leave when he doesn’t need me anymore’ She smiled sadly.

‘Just because people left you in the past, it doesn’t mean he will too.’ Severus smiled dryly saying nothing more. He looked at her with the eyes of an ancient man staring down at one of his pupils. It was as if he’d seen the future and knew she was wrong. She turned to her cauldron thinking he was wrong, _hoping_ he was wrong, _knowing_ he deserved happiness instead of people just leaving after using him. Deep in thoughts, her cauldron gurgled as a man choking in its own blood and blew up on her face. Severus muttered it served her right and left to order more ingredients since they were depleted after Pepperup’s antics of the week.

 

 

She’d never admit she was growing impatient with Harry’s silence. Ron had delivered the message, she wanted to see him and talk to him but he just vanished. She couldn’t reach him, she felt in no right to force him to contact her. At the same time she needed so much to make things right, she felt her heart tighten as if a strong hand was constricting her whole chest, breathing turned hard and her nose prickled. She looked up, up as high as her neck could bend, right to the blinding light of the light blue sky, the sun radiating through it and making it painful to stare at. she couldn’t cry anymore, she wasn’t the crying type. The blinding light of the sky combined with the wind on her face dried her wet eyes. Closing them, tiny dots danced in her vision and being too much to keep inside she turned inwards revisiting each one of the memories where she showed her worst. The rottenness of her personality clinging to her, enlacing over her from her ankles to her chest like devil snare. With her closed eyes and neck hurting from facing up a tear ran over her cheekbone.

_‘Just tell me WHY? Did you have fun? Going around taking a laugh of me? That stupid Weasley girl, smitten by dear Potter since twelve? Smitten by GAY Potter since twelve?!’_

But she didn’t listen to his excuses and apologies, she left without ever listening to any of them. All she could think of is that he kissed her when she was fifteen, and he left her to kill You Know Who when she was sixteen, and he took a few months out helping people, helping Shacklebolt, clearing Snape’s name, helping _Snape_ rebuild his home, and he was busy, _helping_ , always fucking helping. And then he came back to her, out of nowhere, and he promised they’d be together, he said he wanted a family, children.

She felt so scared that day, he hadn’t been there for _months_ and suddenly he wanted everything. He wanted it so fast, except that she had dreams of her own too, she wanted to play Quidditch, she wanted to go on dates, kiss under the mistletoe, she wanted to look in his eyes and see laughter and happiness. She didn’t long for that hurry to get somewhere and be happy there, she longed to be happy down the road while paving the way to a family. She looked down, her feet deep in grass, shoulders trembling she prayed for her mother to be too busy and not try to come and find her.

_'Were you even talking seriously when you said you wanted to marry me? Having children with me? And then what? AND THEN WHAT, HARRY? I’d be what to you? The bitch who gave you what you desired so you could finally go around sucking cock without the weight of not having a family for yourself? You’d do your duty to keep the Precious Potter name by having as many offspring you desired so then you could go around, shoving disgusting dicks up your arse because your fucking WIFE wouldn’t be enough? You are disgusting! Go get a fucking whore to pop out little Potter’s for you, you don’t get to use me like that you fucking shit!’_

She crouched feeling her whole self tremble, taking deep noisy breaths like a man coming to the surface after almost drowning. She hated herself, she hated her dark parts, the parts full of sharp tongue and no feeling for the consequences, the parts that aimed at the weakest spots, that aimed to kill. She hated how much she hurt Harry that day, but no matter how much she hated how she hurt him, she couldn’t regret her words, she tried, and she tried, and she tried, and she could wither under sun and rain while trying and she’d never manage to regret.

She couldn’t regret because she felt used, she felt betrayed, he knew he couldn’t be with her and he came to her anyways. He wanted a family, and she’d give one, playing Quidditch or not, in a hurry as he wanted or slowly as she desired. She knew she’d give him a family, she’d marry him and have children because she wanted it too, she wanted because she could envision it too, in a more distant future but she could.

And she couldn’t regret it because she hadn’t lied, she’d give him a family, and someday down the road he wouldn’t withhold the lie anymore and the sandcastle they’d built would crumble because no one can carve a life around expectations, duty, and whatever lies Harry would tell himself every night while laying by her side. At some point he’d desire happiness and he’d cave, he’d do what she said in her hatred, she couldn’t blame him for who he was but she could blame him for wasting her life along with his, she couldn’t hate him for who he was but she could hate him for his lies. She couldn’t regret her words, she could only hate herself for being weak and have cried that night, she could hate herself for being so goddamn evil with her words that, only because he broke her, she decided to break him in return.

_‘if you never wanted to make me a procreating machine why even bother to come back? Wasn’t Snape’s dick to your taste? At least he has one, If you liked taking him and sucking him off TELL ME FUCKING WHY Harry?! Tell me fucking why you came back making promises only to break my heart again?! I HATE you! You’ll never have a family and sooner you accept that you can go around having all the men you desire because no women would want to be an object, not even to the golden hero.’_

She clutched her hair tight, pulling the strands, her breath stuck in her throat. She was hot-tempered, her own fierceness had the power to overcome her brain. She hated it. She loved it too, sometimes, when things needed to be said but that day with Harry, it was just too much, it was too full of hurt and fierceness. She whimpered, trying to keep the words out of her mind, trying to keep herself away from the pain, her hands felt numb, her feet felt cold. She wasn’t even breathing, she was only trying with pure brute force to keep at bay the last words she said at him.

‘ _I’d be spared of the shame of being your girlfriend if you hadn’t survived'_

With hands trembling she sat over the grass, slumped, her red hair whipping around, trying to follow the wind, unconscious and carelessly, unaware of anguish and pain. Those last words, she locked away since the day she said them. Those were the words she regretted since the moment she stared coldly in the green eyes and spoke softly, just as softly as when she said she loved him only the day before.

Too tired to scream, too tired to cry and feel anger crawling inside her like a monster, biting her heart out in chunks of disappointment, she watched him disapparate and she did nothing. For a long time, she did nothing, she watched the days pass in a haze. She went through it all, the anger, the denial, the acceptance, she skipped the bargaining because there wasn’t such a thing for her, no one should beg for love. She left, she played Quidditch as she dreamt, she loved herself even more than when she was at Hogwarts and she started to protect her heart better.  And then she noticed that it didn’t hurt anymore, she noticed that whatever Harry was going through it was as hard for him as it was for her. That’s when she found out she regretted everything that happened, from Harry’s fear of just love himself and be who he was to her lack of depth while going through that much pain. She knew she wouldn’t apologize at the time, hurt and angered she just couldn’t say sorry. She was ready to do it now, and she regretted it took so long.

 

 

Pepperup was playing with the blankets, distracted from everything around him. Sometimes he would just sit and stare at me, blinking slowly as if he knew the things that went inside my head. Others he’d be blissfully ignorant and act just like a normal cat, a companion. Suddenly, I remembered Hedwig and my nose itched. I missed her, I missed the company she’d keep me while being locked up at the Dursleys, I missed her nibbling my fingers and I missed running them through her feathers. And I swore I would never get another familiar and yet, here I was, smiling and finding Pepperup such a cute cat, such a nice companion. Suddenly I felt sick, I hated myself, and I hated Pepperup and then I felt disgusted with my thoughts and hated myself a little more because Pepperup had nothing to do with the piece of shit I was. I was the one who didn’t deserve to take care of him, I was the one who didn’t deserve any of this. I took a trembling breath, I’ve been thinking about it over and over again each day more, and I was aware of what I promised Dumbledore at King’s cross but somewhere deep down I also knew he was one of the few who would understand my regret for not picking up the train. If he was here, he’d get it, he’d look at me with the same eyes he had when he told me his life’s regrets but, somewhere deep down, I knew he’d understand.

‘Kreacher come here please' Was this how it worked? Was this how Regulus ordered him out of the Inferi's embrace? Kreacher popped up over the bed scaring Pepperup who ran down the stairs, probably to hide among Severus’s robes.

‘Master Potter called?’ He looked wearily at me after I’d rent the muggle apartment I’ve not called him to do any bindings, after the war. I did ask him if he wanted to stay at Hogwarts with the other house-elves but he felt displeased and said he preferred Grimmauld place to sort amongst whatever was left of Regulus’s stuff. I let him and never asked for him to come to me again.

'I have a mission for you. You can’t tell anyone, you can’t hint at it to anyone, it’s a secret and only me and you will be aware of it, do you understand?’ He nodded and bowed, his long nose touching the blankets, Slytherin’s fake locket dangled on his neck, glinting, as the small light of the bedroom hit it. I wanted to throw up just glancing at it, even if I knew it was a fake. I took a deep breath 'You'll go to the forbidden forest, there’s a clearing. An Acromantula lived there, if it helps you to find it, his name was Aragog, he’s dead, don’t worry. It’s nothing but a clearing now. Anyways, around that clearing, somewhere, I don’t know exactly where, but around it, I dropped a stone' I gulped, my hands were shaking and I clenched the blankets trying to speak calmly and rationally. ‘Now listen to me well, this stone is black, it’s cracked right in the middle. It has a marking on it. A triangle with a circle inside it and a line cutting the triangle in the middle. Do you understand?’ Kreacher bowed again.

‘Yes, master Potter'

‘I want you to go there and fetch that stone for me. You can take days, months, but I need you to find it for me' He bowed again.

'Yes, Master'

'If you do it, I promise you can try and see Regulus again and talk to him' Kreacher got up quickly, his spine as straight as a perfectly tuned string.

‘How master? H-How can Kreacher talk to Master Regulus? Tell Kreacher, please!’ He knelt down and his eyes were gleaming from tears. My heart was beating faster.

‘I need the stone to do it, I don’t know if it’ll work on house-elves, but if it does you can talk to him. Get me the stone Kreacher, please' He nodded and bowed even lower, as low as I’ve ever seen and with another pop, he vanished to fulfil my request. I laid down curled in myself, I was tired to cry but even so, it felt like tears never stopped to run down my face. I felt nothing, I thought giving Kreacher this mission would bring back a resemblance of the thrill I felt during all my years at Hogwarts but the only thing I could feel was some sort of humming, like a buzzing background sound that kept away everything else. Numb was too small to define but empty was too vague.

I felt sorry for Severus, I felt worthless for wasting his time. He hoped day after day that I was improving but, honestly, even if being by his side sometimes could make me laugh and smile I wasn’t sure if it was worth all the strain. I also wasn’t sure if the smiles I gave were honest, they felt so forced. I felt tired, depleted, I felt as if I had lived a hundred years and I was wondering how the fuck did Nicolas Flamel managed to live that long. His achievement wasn’t the philosopher’s stone, his achievement was to just live and not get tired of it, not wish for death, not understand that Death's arms were mercy and not a punishment. I was ignorant in many aspects, but not this one. To Nicolas Flamel, who lived so long, around six hundred years, ignorance was a blessing. Because if he only knew, he’d also feel like living for such a long time was hell’s worst punishment.

I sat on the bed, my mind was fuzzy, I was thinking too much but I wanted not to, I just wanted it to be empty, void. I went to the potions lab, the stairs creaking under my feet, Snape was moving his eyes around, one second watching the cauldron another he had his eyes over Pepperup who was scratching himself on his legs, Merula wasn’t around, he smiled to the cat. It was so long ago since I’ve seen that smile, I remembered to see it between glasses of wine, I saw it after and during kisses, the most beautiful ones he used to save it for after sex or when he thought I wasn’t looking. He looked at me, his smile was replaced by the usual scowl. I wish I could say it hurts but I could only feel like I deserved nothing beyond that.

‘I thought you said you’d lock the door so he couldn’t invade my lab anymore?’

‘I forgot' I stepped inside and propped myself over his counter. I extended my hand and he looked at it frowning.

‘You’ve already taken your pills, remember we’re trying to get you healthy' He was looking at my fingers, my hands hadn’t stopped shaking since I called Kreacher upstairs.

'Please? I’m not feeling great today' I’m actually hovering between feeling like shit and feeling nothing at all. He shook his head and I had to close my eyes to not scream and punch him.

'Maybe tea?’ As if tea could fix me. I shook my head looking down at Pepperup and refusing to like him, I had to loathe him. I had to, I couldn’t betray Hedwig like this. Severus shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

'I... I think I need to go out a little' I smiled my best smile and looked at his face, he was frowning.

‘If you’re feeling under the weather I don’t think that going out is a good idea' I wanted to scoff to his ‘under the weather’ term. What’d he say if I attempted suicide? That it was a fluke? I laughed dry and short and he frowned again. ‘Harry...’

‘No, don’t 'Harry' me! You and Hermione just show up, out of fucking nowhere, and think you’re both entitled to take control of my life and my decisions. Fuck you! A big fuck you to you both. You took away the only thing that barely keeps me sane, and when I say to you that I’m feeling like shit the only thing you offer is tea? Seriously? And now I can’t even leave this shit place you call home because why? Do you need so much to control me? Afraid I’m gonna dump you again or is this some kind of weird kind of fixation I’m unaware of? What is it? So much time under Voldemort’s claws and now you have this deep fetish that makes you crave to control people?!’ I didn’t felt the slap, I only felt the wind as my head whipped to the side and a dull burn feeling on my left cheek. I smiled, I got what I wanted, pain.

'Did truth hit home this much?’ I looked at him, his eyes were burning with rage, his hands were shaking and for a second I saw hurt in his eyes. As if Severus Snape would ever allow me to hurt him, he wouldn’t, not after he trusted me and I disappointed him and left him for Ginny. ‘You should have hit harder, this doesn’t cover half of what I deserve' I got up leaving the lab without giving him time to retort me. Fuck it. With this last thought, I disapparated to Grimmauld place, with luck he’d take at least the rest of the day to find me there if he didn’t start looking right now.

 

 

The git looked like he was on the verge of a stroke. Hermione was sitting at the chair on the small kitchen and I was standing behind her, closer to the door. She was crying, Snape was pacing like mad and I was ready to bolt from the door.

‘Undo the life debt right now!’ He stopped staring at her. ‘I’m not dealing with Potter anymore. If he desires to act self-destructive and kill himself in an overdose my suggestion is let him! I’m done!’ Hermione sobbed and my hands shook in anger.

‘Shut up Snape. I’m not saying it was right to force you to take part in this mess'

'You damn right it was not!’ He stopped pacing again to shout while looking at my face.

‘We, out of everyone, are the last ones who’d want to see Harry like this. And if it takes picking up a fight with you in order for you to fix him, believe me, I will. Mione might have the knowledge to help him, but she hardly has the time. Where is he?’ He stopped with a scowl over his face, he didn’t look so scary now. Just, I couldn’t point exactly, but he looked almost afraid If Snape even could feel fear.

‘Grimmauld place, It took me a whole day to find that lousy, ignoble, effing, blasted, dumb little shit’ I wanted to laugh but didn’t risk to.

‘And why didn’t you just brought him back?’ He looked as if he was plotting my murder.

'Why Mr Weasley, I wonder. Perhaps because I wasn’t in the mood to be relentlessly called git, jerk, asshat, prick, and another very childish lousy names'

‘That’s the reason? Harry calls me those sometimes too' He pursed his lips. ‘We’ll get him, just... Just talk to him okay?’ A cat jumped over the table out of nowhere Hermione gave a screech. Since when the dungeon bat has a cat? I frowned looking at the poor thing. He looked cute licking his front paw.

'I won’t be talking to him anytime soon!’ I sighed and looked from Hermione to Snape, she seemed at a loss of words just staring to the cat and frowning.

‘Snape...’

‘When did you got this cat?’ We both looked at her.

'I didn’t, Merula did, she thought it would improve Harry’s humour. A great good amount of nothing it did' Hermione was looking at him 'And now I have to deal with a wretched Potter and a wretched cat'

'Oh no, Severus... Hedwig. Harry’s probably acting like this because it remembers him of Hedwig' He looked from the cat to her face.

‘Excuse me?! That’s absurd!’ But he sat on a chair also looking at the animal, who without a single care, laid down to take a nap.

'No, it isn’t. Me and Ron... We suggested him various times to get a new familiar, to make him feel better' I looked at Mione sighing from those memories.

'The last time we suggested it, he had a fit of rage that destroyed at least half of his apartment, we had to leave and come back two weeks later, the door didn’t budge open before that. The apartment was a chaos of broken glass and empty bottles. He started crying when he saw us, saying he’d never have another familiar, saying he couldn’t do that to Hedwig' I sighed remembering what I just said. Snape looked deep in thought.

‘Fine, I’ll try once more. But I promise nothing' Hermione nodded getting up. ‘And I’m not getting rid of the cat for Potter’s sake. If he feels bad for his owl it’s something he needs to work, not my cat’s problem' I arched my eyebrows.

‘After hearing this I’d suspect you have feelings'

'Honestly Ronald!’ I laughed.

‘'What?! Is true!’ She sighed looking apologetically to the greasy git and dragging me out while thanking him.

‘That was plain rude'

‘Rude is if I call him dungeon bat Instead of' the pull on my navel cut my words short and before I squeezed in the tunnel I had the most delirious sight I’ve ever seen. Snape smiling.

He was sat on the couch, staring blankly to the flames in the fireplace. One knee folded and resting his chin over it. It looked like he managed to lose at least five of the few pounds he gained while being with me.

'I talked to your friends today. Hermione and Ronald' He only scoffed not taking his eyes off the fire.

'You call them by name now?’ I adjusted my handcuffs just to have something to do.

The carpet in front of the mantelpiece hadn’t changed and I remembered applying healing salve over a very lovely back after a rough night of sex on that same carpet, there was wincing from the rug burn, giggles and an endless bottle of scotch that featured on the forefront of my mind.

‘It came to my enlightenment' I swallowed, he had been putty in my arms on that same couch, in what felt ages ago. ‘Harry, Pepperup isn’t here to act like any kind of replacement for Hed-'

'Don't. Don’t say her name' I moved closer and sat beside him, I felt so tired. This place looked too dead for any living thing to be here. I looked around at the dusty dark room.

‘All I’m trying to inform and that you seem to fail in understand is that what happened to you, nothing can undo it or replace it. But you need to allow yourself to let go of the past'

'That's rich coming from you' Finally he took his eyes off the flames and looked at me, he had dark circles that made his face look so much more haunted. ‘Thinking of how long you fought a war for a dead woman'

'Do not talk like this about your own mother' He turned to look at the fire again and I wondered where it came from, all this sudden anger. Was it lingering there? Under the apparently calming waves of his temper?

'Do truth hurt you this much? That she’s dead? That you’re half responsible for it? Does guilt eat you inside out? When you remember that you fucked her son through an through' He looked at me again, his eyes were empty. ‘And that you liked? And came back for more?’ It was my turn to look at the flames trying not to lose control once more. His cheek wasn’t red anymore but I could still feel my hand burn from having touched him like that.

‘I told you, years ago, that I am not a good man. It seems silly you imagining that I’d feel guilty over such a thing. Is this the desire of your simple mind? Do you want me to feel guilty for taking and giving you pleasure? Did I ruin your relationship with Ginevra this much? Making you think of my mouth when you kissed hers? You felt guilty about everything and now you feel entitled to demand me to feel guilty either?’ His eyes burned in rage and his hands flew to my neck squeezing it, however there wasn't enough will to stop me breathing. The tender scar on my neck burned and that alone was enough to make my eyes water in pain. ‘I do not regret Potter, I do not feel guilty, and if you think I’m the one who ruined your future filled with ginger children. I invite you to think again and use your brain this time' His eyes were madly scanning me, looking for a sign of weakness that I refused to show.

His grip became slack, gentle over my scar and pulse point. Still looking into my eyes he got closer, so close I could feel the heat from his skin. He kissed me, and I allowed him. I kissed back like a man who’d just found water after roaming an entire week in a desert. I would regret that, not now, perhaps not even that day. He threw his leg over mine sitting on my lap, not stopping kissing me once. His hands were all over on my chest and shoulders, scratching my neck tenderly and the only thing I could think of was how I missed this.

He moved to kiss my neck and lick and suck, I didn’t move to separate him from me, my hands, since the moment we started kissing were holding him by the waist, I only moved them when he hid his face on the curve of my neck, his shoulders shaking. I touched his hair, like I used to do, a few years ago, after he’d fallen asleep, carefully disentangling the messy locks, combing my fingers through them. My shirt felt wet and his grasp on my robes was so tight that he’d hardly let go easily. I said nothing, my hands kept caressing his hair, there wasn’t much to say. But there was plenty to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I don't have a date for the next chapter, but since I'm already building it hopefully it won't take long. So stay tuned

**Author's Note:**

> link for the song that inspired this fic on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HDZJQNyOW  
> Link for the song that inspired this fic on SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/glassnotemusic/daughter-medicine
> 
> ENDNOTES
> 
> ● I hope I can finish the next chapter by the end of the month. I'll do my best to hurry up and post it as soon as possible.  
> ●Sorry for any grammatical errors and feel free to point it out so I can fix it.  
> 


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